


Dance 2 Die 4

by VanessaSQuest



Series: Frequency-verse [10]
Category: Jonny Quest, The Real Adventures of Jonny Quest
Genre: Budding Romance, F/M, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, School Dance, not THAT kind of happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 21:03:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17567891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VanessaSQuest/pseuds/VanessaSQuest
Summary: Direct Sequel to Killer Mid-Term, in the Frequency Verse. Life is normalizing after the school shooting, and Jonny is looking forward to getting back to life as he knows it with Cherie, and the fam.





	Dance 2 Die 4

Dance to Die For by Vanessa S. Quest  
0620 EST January 3, Quest Compound –  
Jonny wheeled back and forth, antsy as he waited at the foot of the stairs for Jessie to join him at the start of the chair lift. He found himself oddly unwilling to repeat earlier, when he’d almost spilled off the lift when the fourth safety latch gave way completely from its half-latched position and was narrowly spared a faster route down the stairs when Darren pulled Jonny’s collar to keep both he and the wheelchair from poorly mimicking a slinky.  
In so doing, Jonny was sure he’d pissed off Venus’s dad royally, he’d spilled his first cup of coffee down his sleeve and shoulder when he made the dive and banged his knee in the process. It was easy to tell he had pissed off Darren in that the older man spent the next five minutes colorfully suggesting he not try to get himself readmitted into the hospital, punctuating it with creative swears, “Ah, fuck-knuckle this shirt’s as ruined as a shit-cake!”  
Wincing, Jonny glanced at Darren guiltily as the man pulled off his stained to ruin dress shirt and undershirt with it. The red marks from the searing hot coffee only twisted the knife more. As an aside, Jonny was surprised at just how ripped Darren was; he didn’t really think the lanky man had that much muscle-tone.  
At the foot of the stairs, he felt the slow process of his pain medication finally kick into effect, the drear and anxiety slip further into numbness and a dangerous sense that he might just be able to get the connection to fully latch without help if only he’d try it again.  
Jessie tapped Jonny’s shoulder, “Hey! Going up?”  
He shook the fuzz out of his head, “Huh… yeah. Jess, could you get the latch on the back? It didn’t click in for me before.”  
“Sure…” She gave him a pleasant smile, she could tell her friend was out of it—had been with the high-powered meds he was on, but even for that his lucidity seemed rather low. “What’re you up to today?”  
Flitting his tongue over the bottoms of his top teeth he maneuvered the chair closer to her to whisper conspiratorially, “I have a favor to ask you, actually… well, another one.” He gave her a lop-sided, mischievous grin.  
“Uh-huh…” She crossed her arms, not willing to throw in with that little info. “And what is it?”  
His eyes seemed to regain more clarity as he charmed, “Think you and Hadji could spring me from here? I have some errands I need to do in town. I need your help with it.”  
“With getting you into town or with your errand?” She said impatiently, she supposed both technically, he wasn’t really supposed to be up and about at all, yet. “Did you just want me to run the errand?”  
“No way! That’s no good. I have to be the one to do it… but I need help getting there.”  
“There where, Quest?” She said while clipping him to the chair lift. She mercifully handed him the remote so he’d at least be able to control his own ascent up the stairs. She wondered if she’d imagined his blush.  
“…It’s for the dance… I heard Cherie’s got a teal dress, I need to get her corsage and a tie and square to go with it.”  
Oh no, she hadn’t, even his ears were pink as he said it. She tried to downplay her laugh at Jonny’s genuine bashfulness, she didn’t realize he was such a …dorky romantic type! She wasn’t even sure where that landed, but he really was being a goober about it all. “What did you need my help with, though? You already know her dress color…”  
“I do, and I can match that, but I don’t know what’ll look better with it—a white rose or a white orchid, and I wanted your opinion. And don’t say it’s because I’m on drugs.” He shot quickly, before she could manage the snarky comment.  
“Alright! Alright… but you’re pulling out all the stops, huh Jonny? Is this how you act with your girlfriends?”  
“Who said she was?!”  
Jessie gave him a look, it was getting harder and harder to not tease him about it all. It was too rich. He was nervous! Jonny, the guy who’d look down an armed terrorist with an air of defiance was blushing about a girl and a dance…  
“When’d you get a girl-friend, kiddo?”  
And just like that, the red radiating from the tips of Jonny’s ears, across the bridge of his nose and cheeks, and back of his neck blanched to a sickly white. He craned his neck to spot Race then turned to glare daggers at Jessie who’d said nothing of their being someone behind him. She knew he couldn’t see behind him on the chair-lift when it was at the top of the steps!  
“I haven’t!” He said, beyond mortified, “…I haven’t even asked her yet…” he muttered, “…but I thought, well… if the date went well… dance if the dance went well!” He covered his face as he cringed. He didn’t need to be double-teamed by both Bannons. He wasn’t equipped for this right now.  
As if seeing she’d taken it a half-step too far, Jessie helped unclip Jonny’s chair from the safety locks. “I’ll ask Hadji. I think we can work it out.” She said, back to covert commentary.  
The pathetic, but thankful look he shot her way made her cringe internally, she wasn’t used to him being so… vulnerable around her. Usually they egged each other way worse than that. She frowned, maybe he really did like-like that Cherie Felds.  
Race looked at the teen in consideration, usually the kiddo would’ve come to him with this sort of thing—ask him about approaches, now he wasn’t even on the need to know list. On some level he wondered if that meant he’d lost ‘cool points’ to Darren of all people. He hoped not, he didn’t think Jonny needed that kind of bad influence, that man was a bona-fide playboy.  
“Jonny, what’s this about a date? Are you talking about the Felds girl?”  
The teenager turned his wheelchair to get out from the stairway and more astutely, out of Race’s range.  
“Ah, no you don’t,” the bodyguard said as he took hold of the handle of the wheelchair so Jonny couldn’t maneuver himself away. He ‘helped’ him quarter turn so to face each other.  
Jonny frowned at him in drear. “…Oh, hey Race.” The unmoved look that earned him made Jonny bellow a sigh, “Do I really have to say?!”  
Race lobbed him a friendly grin, “You never had a problem talking to me about crushes before.”  
Sinking into his chair, Jonny realized glibly, that it wouldn’t actually do him the solid and swallow him whole. He looked around the hallway, there wasn’t an easy out. Jessie’d vanished on him too, he was stuck.  
“I didn’t realize that was some binding contract that I’d always have ta…”  
It was Race’s turn to sigh, “You don’t if you really don’t want to, but I could give you some pointers.” He was surprised Jonny was giving him the deer in the headlights look. Damn, he really had lost cool points somewhere down the way. “Alright, alright… I get it, you don’t want it. If you change your mind, though…”  
Jonny could feel the hold on the chair go, he was quick to put a foot of distance between them both. “I didn’t say I did or didn’t! I didn’t ask anyone for advice because I don’t want any right now.”  
“That’s fair.” Race backpedaled, he didn’t know why he’d felt compelled to push his advice on the teen in the first place, he could be plenty charming on his own, he didn’t necessarily need help on that front, and he had asked a girl on a date before, and… in this situation he already had the date. He just also still had those jitters.  
“Race, are classes really starting up tomorrow?” The teen finally asked, as if the older man could help him with that instead.  
“…Well, for the other kids, yeah, but you’re not off restrictions yet so you’ll be home for another two weeks, why?”  
The teen wrapped his arms protectively across his own stomach. “…It… just feels strange that people would be back in there.” He shivered as he remembered his last view of the school a freeze-frame of when it had all went so far south. A misty grey fog hung in the air around the bullet-pocked lockers, his own blood ballooning the floor, the reds and blues of police lights hitting the edge of the fire door where he’d made his stance… the spot no more than 15 feet away where Amy Lehrer had died.  
Race clapped a hand on Jonny’s shoulder and he almost jumped out of his skin for the trouble.  
“Jonny, it won’t look like that when you get back. It’s over. You stopped them…”  
He gave a mute, unconvinced nod, his mouth opened as if trying to conjure some spell of words but he lost his voice in his own thoughts of that hell-scape. “…I’m tired… I’m gonna lay back down.” The teen added after a long minute.  
Race gave him a pitiable look, “Alright, did you want me to wake you up before breakfast is served?”  
The subdued head shake was a sucker-punch Race could’ve done without. “…I don’t feel all that hungry.”  
His large hand ruffled Jonny’s hair gently, not sure what else he could say to counter that but knew he had to try to bridge the chasm, “Did you want to hang out in the media room today once you’re back up?”  
Jonny shook his head in a fog not really hearing Race as he wheeled himself into his room. A certain French bulldog darted around the wheels of the large chair before angling to put his paws on Jonny’s knee.  
“Hey boy, down…” Jonny offered tiredly. He clicked the wheel lock before he shoved up from the chair gingerly, hand still curling over his sore stomach and slouching back into the bed, spent. He curled his knees toward his center, still reeling from the exertion and slipping back under the warm covers. He patted a spot at his side for Bandit to hop up to, to which the dog lovingly obliged. “IRIS… turn off the lights…”  
Absently, he stroked the floppy cartilage in Bandit’s ears and stroked under the bulldog’s chin as he sighed distractedly. That freeze-frame in time had been living with him near constant over the last few weeks. Sure there’d been a few other moments—almost exclusively awful ones—that were also playing on repeat.  
The sound of Amy screaming, the sound of her not screaming and the dragging-sound of her rubber soled shoes as they skittered in a twitch on the waxed floor, and then the stillness. The overhead announcements… and then he was back in a dusty bazaar in Lebanon, six again—watching his father sob over his mother’s dead body, the blood ballooning from her stomach and chest.  
He gagged, the revolt in his stomach too much for him to hold in, he almost fell off the bed to not just lose his stomach contents on it. He barely caught himself with his right hand on the nightstand before the mouthful of clear with strings of red hit the floor. He shivered violently, the jarring adding that much more pleasantries to his morning.  
The tap on the door went largely unanswered, his mouth and eyes still watering as his stomach geared up for round two.  
He felt a cool hand on the back of his neck as he was pulled back to an upright position, deeper into the bed and at less of a fall risk. With a soft groan he let his head roll back into his dad’s shoulder.  
“Easy there,” Benton offered, he combed his fingers through the flat blond hair as he studied the heavy bags under Jonny’s eyes. He pulled a throw blanket over the teen’s shoulders before readjusting him into the contact.  
“M’mornin’ dad…” the teen offered miserably.  
“Good morning, Jonny.” He said in a genuine greeting, he glanced at the mess then back at the youth. “Is that from your morning rounds?”  
Jonny eyed the area he’d just thrown up, uncomfortable and slightly embarrassed by it, “…Maybe a little? I was …remembering things… and my stomach just…” He dropped off, knowing his meaning was conveyed. “Dad, do you think I could get an appointment with Dr. Von Liecht? I think it’d help… some of this at least.”  
“I can look into it. I hear you’re having a lively morning so far.” He tried to redirect.  
The teen blushed, “Don’t tell me Race sent you in here after he couldn’t get the dirt…”  
Benton smiled, “About your date? Hardly. But Darren did tell me about how you were looking to expedite the trip down the stairs with an elevator.”  
He shivered, “Yeah… that clip on the back of the chair gave me some trouble… I thought it was in, but I guess it was only half-in. The click wasn’t as loud as it was supposed to be, but I couldn’t see it… I have to twist too much to.”  
“I tell you what, I’ll take a look at that and see if I can adjust it to be more toward the side. How does that sound?”  
Jonny nodded, “I think that’d work better.” He let his eyelids fall to a soft close. “Dad, have you seen sis yet? She’s normally buzzing around by now.”  
“I haven’t, have you changed yet?”  
“…Not yet, I woke up pretty sore.”  
That concerned Benton, he was recovering slower than they’d really anticipated, but that was also from his inability to keep his appetite up. “Well, allow me to help, then?”  
Jonny shrugged a shoulder, “I guess.” He raised a slim arm and pointed a reedy finger toward his closet, “I was thinking I could do a pull-over hoodie and t-shirt today,” he considered what he was pretty sure was left in his wardrobe, “…with sweatpants? I don’t think any of my fleece PJ pants are clean.”  
Benton gave him a soft smile, “I can see if they’ve made it through the dryer. I picked up a few new documentaries if you’d like to watch those today, sport.”  
“Oh yeah? What about?” He asked absently while his dad pulled the requested shirts.  
“Art restoration, I thought you might like those. One focuses on how they mix the paints and repair the canvases, and the other is about how they determine the painting’s authenticity.”  
That had earned him a genuine smile, which of late had been a rare sight indeed. His son tiredly said, “…Really? Cool.”  
Benton handed the teen a black t-shirt- the largest he could find to make it a little easier to pull over, and an even more over-sized hoodie.  
Jonny unbuttoned the cotton pajama top and sloughed it off, the scar over his stomach was shaped like an upside-down check mark- the ‘triangle’ about 4 inches in length, though five inches worth of stitches total. The punch-hole scar of the bullet wound was nestled within the corner. The thin white tissue was a contrast to the warmer tones of Jonny’s sun-glow skin, most of the scar laid flat or indented, with the bullet hole the only aspect of the scar that raised above the skin’s height in parts, no bigger than a pencil eraser, to think that small of a hole could cause so much damage… Benton turned to look away, sure his son would be self-conscious if he’d caught his dad staring at the mark.  
The teen let his hand ghost over the sore tissue, prodding the new terrain on his own body while he smoothed his shirt down. He pulled over the hoodie as his dad stepped out to check on the fleece pajama bottoms and a towel.  
Jonny’s eyes caught sight of his sister walking down the hall, he gave her a small wave and smile, she- in reply- gave him a 100 watt-smile and turned toward his room, diverting from Dr. Quest’s trajectory.  
“There you are!” Venus chimed, stretching as she looked over the room, choosing to willfully ignore the smell of bile. “Did you get that message I slipped ya?”  
“About her dress? Yeah, thanks sis.” He smiled back ruefully, “And you even got a picture of it…”  
“Yeah, well, I’m thorough. It should go to her knee in length. Be sure to send me pictures from the dance, too!” She cheered, not really feeling it, she was actually gutted that she had to head back soon but she refused to say that to her brother, she didn’t want him to feel any of the stress she did and she knew he had lots of anxiety just thinking about walking back into that building. “Dad says we can hang around until you’ve gone back to school for a couple of days, and then we’ll need to head back. Cool, huh? He doesn’t want me to miss that new exhibit though… so we have to leave before your big debut. Sorry about that.”  
“…Debut?”  
“Yeah! The dance, obviously, there’s no way you’re not getting honored at it. I mean, that and you’ll probably be the first sophomore in your school’s history to make Prom King… and Cherie’ll be the first Fresher to be Prom Queen, that’s for sure.”  
“Venus!” He warned, “Stop it… That’s so far away, and I don’t think it’s going to happen...”  
She pouted at him in earnest, “I’m sorry, you don’t want to talk about it…” she blew out a sigh and then doubled down and reaffixed an even larger smile, “Jess said you’re busting outta—”  
“Sh! Don’t say anything!” Her brother rolled his eyes at her. “It’ll be pretty short-lived if you do.”  
“So is Hadji going with Jessie to the dance too?” She tried to redirect to the latest news.  
“Well, yeah, they’re dating.” He shrugged. “…You really wanted to be able to go, too, huh?”  
“Not particularly.” Venus lied smoothly, “I don’t belong there, and it’d be weird for you to have your sister around when you’re on a d~a~t~e.”  
He shook his head at her, “You’re as bad as Jessie about it!”  
Venus pressed her hands together and held her fingertips to her lips, with a coy wink she incited him further, “Oh don’t be like that! Cherie’s really cute… and I can be happy for you, can’t I?”  
The soft blush radiating Jonny’s cheeks told her the answer was a yes.  
“How’d you know I liked her, anyway?”  
“Because you put your paintings near hers even when stylistically it didn’t transition well at your showing in the Municipal Building… it was so you could be close by when you were doing it, you sneak.”  
That got her a goofy grin, “I was trying to be subtle about that…”  
She took her turn to roll her eyes, “You’re as bad at dad is about being subtle when he actually likes someone. Flirts, the both of you.”  
“Am not!” Jonny shot back, discomfited. He almost wanted to embarrass her back, he leaned toward her. “Your dad’s a flirt, how so?”  
“Oh don’t get me started with him… he’ll walk around all disheveled and with his post-coitus glow and the doofiest look on his face and think I’m too innocent and naïve to realize he just fucked some chick’s brains out in the home office…”  
Jonny blanched, that… had not really been the kind of information he’d wanted.  
“…As if the sound proofing is that good from the living room!” She shook her head, annoyed. “Even with my headphones on… yeah, dad doesn’t do subtle.”  
“Oh there’s my sweetheart.” Darren crooned from the door, an equally ashen shade to Jonny as his own dirty laundry was aired so freely. He shook his head to let it roll off him. “I need to borrow you, and your pops would like to finish helping Jonny get ready for the morning, if you’d be so obliging.”  
Jonny wouldn’t make eye-contact, Darren noted, “uh… thanks for earlier, Darren… are you… okay?” He did finally look up a little.  
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’ve taken way worse than a splash of hot coffee before. How about you? I didn’t get you too bad?”  
Jonny shook his head, “No, I didn’t get any coffee on me.”  
Darren shook his head, “Not what I meant, I shoved you back pretty hard. Are you sure I didn’t hurt you?”  
“Oh! Oh, I don’t think so… but, you know… pain meds. I don’t think I’d feel it if you did, not when they’re kicking in at least.”  
He nodded, unhappy at that answer. “Alright, well, I’ll check in on you later. Princess, come on.”  
She gave a brooding pout, “Fine… I’ll check on you later, too. So when do you plan on heading out?”  
“Venus!” Jonny groaned. He gave Darren a look, unsure if the man would narc on him or not.  
Darren busied himself looking at his nails, intent to feign ignorance, “Sweetie, stop trying to tag along. If he wanted to sneak out with you, he’d have said so.”  
Jonny grimaced, hiding his face all but sure Darren was going to roll on him.  
“Oh don’t be like that. You’re in my good book, that candid shot of her in the apron at Thanksgiving locked that much down, easy.”  
“…Really?” Jonny perked up. “Even after this morning?”  
“What do you think happened this morning?” Darren’s eyebrow shot up. “Kid, with as many pain killers as you’ve gotta be on, I’m not faulting you for flubbing a switch. I’m just glad I could make the reach. Anyhow, you’re dad’s right outside, and Princess Pita here needs to head downstairs and eat her gee-dee breakfast, now don’t you sweetie?” He said, voice going sing-song on the last part.  
She rolled her eyes, “Uh huh… alright, later Jonny! I wanna see it.”  
“Ok! Okay, I’ll show you a picture, just don’t blow my cover!”  
She rolled her eyes again, louder, “I never do. He overheard you this morning anyway. Oh, and so did Race.” She waved and bounced out of the room with a wake of bedlam readily sprang.  
“Really?!” Jonny shot back, he started to rise before he caught his stomach and eased back to his seated position on the bed.  
Darren grabbed Venus’s shoulder and forcibly navigated her out. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t think your outing is going to get vetoed anyway, and if anything, Snow’d be the tag-along.” He marched Venus out of the room before she could protest too much more.  
“Oh great,” Jonny bristled. He could only imagine what gems Race was going to give him about putting the moves on a girl… and he didn’t really want to think about who else he’d used those moves on lately.  
Once they were out of the room, Benton gave Jonny a few moments to collect himself before he knocked to announce his own re-entry. He and Darren exchanged a look before he proceeded.  
“Hey dad,” Jonny said with a wave, at least he felt more awake now, and if he was honest that did distract him from his previous remembrances. He caught sight of the fleece pajama pants with plaid green and navy checkering.  
“I see they’re still morning people.” Benton observed, giving his son a gentle grin. He had watched them retreat down the hall and toward the stairs, absently he wondered if his daughter was depressed, what with her trying to mask so many of her emotions for her brother’s sake it was hard to confirm. God, he hoped Darren could field that. He felt a bit stretched, himself.  
Jonny laughed at that, “Apparently…” He grimaced as he remembered her earlier gibing.  
“Now that you’re a little more awake, would you like to finish up and head back downstairs yourself?”  
The teen looked at his dad and gave a serene smile, if he were honest, he did feel a little hungry now. He gave an affirmative head-bob.  
“Good.” Benton put a towel over the spilled stomach contents as he placed the pants down on the bed. He gathered up the fouled towel and called back, “I’ll meet you at the stairs.”  
“Okay, thanks.” Jonny called back, he was thrilled to have the dignity of privacy restored. The first few days he’d returned home he had barely been able to keep upright, and the idea of bending had long been dispelled from just getting into his wheelchair. He thought it was amazing about how much changed within only a couple of weeks. It certainly was still a chore to switch out his clothes, but he was getting used to that with baggier clothes at least.  
He closed his eyes thinking about how hard the dress clothes were going to be, the cold sweat from just trying to fix his buttons- and worse, the feeling of something tight over his stomach made him shiver, he swallowed dryly. It’d be worth it, though. He reminded himself with the mental image of Cherie’s dress, of Cherie in her teal dress, and that she’d be with him at a dance… that she wanted to go to the dance with him of all people… no, he could tolerate any discomfort of a monkey suit for that honor.  
Besides, he didn’t have to wear a vest or a cummerbund. That would be torture. “Maybe I should wear a teal dress-shirt and a white tie instead…” He pondered aloud. He was just glad he knew how he sized into formal shirts, unlike how Jessie’d have to try on every. single. dress, because of how they could each land differently, dress shirts were standardized. If anything, his might be a little loose since he’d lost some weight after the shooting. He thought he could get away without a suit jacket, but the added layer was more of a nice-to-have with the cold weather. That or he could wear his black peacoat—that would look alright with dress slacks and cap-toed oxfords, or maybe a pair of chukkas… he didn’t really have to be able to dance in the shoes, so as long as they stayed laced up, he’d be good to go.  
Gingerly, he slipped back into the wheelchair and unlocked the wheels so he could navigate his way out of the room now that he’d gotten dressed.  
At the top of the stairs, he could see his dad moving the bracket more toward his right. “Oh, good timing. Let’s see how that works.” His dad said as he retightened the bolt.  
Jonny reversed his chair back into the ramp and clicked the three safeties in place with ease and moved on to the fourth safety latch on the chair-back. With a snug click, Jonny eyed his dad.  
The redhead checked the connections, finding them secure with a tug, he handed Jonny the remote. “It seems secure, let me head down ahead of you just to be on the safe side, though.”  
“Okay…” Jonny nodded, waited for his dad to take a lead before starting the descent.  
-Dance To Die For JQ-  
0800, 03 January…  
The breakfast table had filled up by time Jonny had gotten to it, he was surprised to see Jessie and Hadji had waited for him, particularly after he’d told Race he wanted to sleep in.  
“Good morning,” came the round of greetings, Hadji smiled in a friendly manner to his brother. The younger teen looked to be in better spirits than what Jessie had relayed from the earlier encounter.  
“Morning,” Jonny smiled back with a waving salute. He wheeled to the open space next to his brother, skipping over the spot Venus had left next to her, before he could see her brood Darren nudged her.  
“Pass the fruit?”  
Venus handed him the basket. Darren continued it down the table then elbowed her again.  
“You have the cream?”  
She blew out a sigh and handed that to him too, instead of taking any for himself, he passed it down as well, tapped her again.  
“What do you need now, dad?” She frowned, crossing her arms.  
“You want some toast?” He eyed her empty plate. The girl let out a low grumble as she took two of the offered slices and passed the basket in the opposite direction.  
He handed her the fruit basket. “How about some fruit, too?”  
“Daaaad…” she glared daggers at him then eyed the rest of the table, glad no one seemed to be as annoyed as she was at his badgering. She passed the basket further down the table neglecting the fruit, he poked her below the table. She turned to glare at him.  
“How about some fruit, too.” He reminded her. She grabbed a granny smith from within reach and took an annoyed bite as if to punctuate her frustration at the old codger.  
She chewed down the rest of the bite and then ate the apple in disinterest while the others loaded up on the various accoutrements.  
Oatmeal, English Muffins, toast, fruit, bacon, sausage, eggs, cheeses, the room permeated with the thick smell of butter. It all smelled so cloying to the girl as she barely managed to choke down an apple, two slices of toast, and some sparkling water forgoing her normal morning cup of milk.  
“Did you want—?”  
“To cut you? Oh, I’m tempted.” Venus shot at him under her breath.  
“I was going to suggest yogurt, since you skipped your milk, personally.”  
Fixing a mega-watt smile, she turned to look at him as if a theater exhibit for the whole table, “No thanks, I’m full.” She licked her canine teeth gave another TV-ready smile and looked across the table in time to spot Race giving her paltry breakfast plate the stink eye.  
As graciously as she could manage, she dabbed her lips with her napkin then set it over the plate to hedge no further arguments. She reminded herself, bitterly, how much she needed to not look pissed off. “Jonny, how’s the hollandaise?”  
Across the way, Jonny absently ate eggs hollandaise on toast, with his mouth full, he struggled to swallow the bite.  
“It’s pretty good.” He offered after a few moments. “Want some?”  
She smiled with a head-shake. “No thanks.”  
“Suit yourself, Mrs. Evans makes it with a sweet bread.” He took another few bites, he looked at the banana and nutella he’d snagged. He hoped that would sit well, the oatmeal probably would’ve been a safer bet but he was craving the richer flavors.  
“She makes it with lamb?” Venus tilted her head, unsure of that variation—sure, it had ham usually… but lamb?  
“No, I said sweet bread, you know, like how Hawaiian bread or potato bread tends to be more sugary?” Jonny explained.  
“Ohhhh… that makes more sense,” Venus shrugged, folded her hands over her lap as she waited for the others to finish eating. Her fingers fidgeted over each other as a means to fill the time.  
With a sideward glance she gave her dad a dirty look as he went to poke her again.  
“Princess, pass the milk down, would you?” He smiled at her sweetly. Her eyes narrowed as she obliged.  
Darren reached across her for her glass.  
“Do it and I’m ruining another shirt.” She said in a hushed threat.  
“Like hell you will.” He said back in a continuation of his sickly sweet tone, “Have this and you’re done.”  
“I’m not some little kid, if I’m not hungry, I’m not hungry.” She continued the argument on, still too quiet for those outside of range to readily hear the full context of.  
Darren smiled while his eyes narrowed into slits, “If you’re not a little kid, then stop acting like one and eat, princess.” He tapped her jaw with a light touch of his fist, poured the glass and set it in front of her then shot his own dirty look that hedged no opportunities to divert.  
Jessie and Race shot a look back and forth to each other at the pair’s theatrics, hushed as they were.  
Venus slung back the milk in a straight go, set the glass down and then crossed her arms in a huff. “Happy?”  
“Delighted,” he smiled conversationally. His eyes flitted across the table to Jessie as if reminding her to not add to the pile, then over the other adults, he doubted they fully understood the dynamics of a picky eater—by all accounts, they’d never really endured that issue.  
“Great, then. If I may be excused?” Venus looked across the way at Jonny as he smeared the nutella on the banana slices.  
“What happened to sitting with the family as they finished?” Race offered coolly.  
Venus folded her hands back over her lap, wringing her fingers together as she pinned on her most cheery looking smile she could muster. “Oh, but of course, my company must be so entertaining… what subject should we discuss?” She cracked her knuckles under the table one by one.  
Jonny made the suggestion before anyone else could chime in, “What’s the exhibit you’re racing back to New York for?”  
Both Darren and Venus blinked at that, Venus’s eyes looked at Darren’s as if unsure of how to really proceed. “…It’s a… physics one.” Her voice trilled upward, skirting the answer without outright lying.  
“Physics?” Benton asked, “I didn’t realize you were in that class.”  
“Oh, I’m only in the Physics Lab—AP. I technically tested out of the coursework at the beginning of the year, but you can’t test out of the labs and I can take the exam once I bank enough of those credit hours.”  
“What labs are you working on?” Benton continued.  
Venus looked to Darren. “…Trajectory…” She evaded.  
“Trajectory?” Race’s eyebrow shot up, he looked at Jonny then at Darren then back to Benton. “Aerodynamics, huh…”  
“Yeah, something like that. Anyway, I haven’t actually done the lab yet, so I hardly have anything to report on.” She was running out of ways to skirt that it was forensics exhibit on ballistics and crime-scene recreation.  
“Well, that will be a pleasant one, the degree of the arc plays such an interesting component, especially with drag and controlled descent.” Benton continued on, still enjoying his breakfast sausage.  
“We’re more on fluid dynamics than solids, but sure.” Venus shirked. She eyed the crowded looking table.  
“Trajectory of fluids, in aerodynamics?” came the question too many.  
“Well, Bernoulli’s Principle and the like.”  
“That’s very advanced, even for AP Physics, Venus,” Benton shot back, “I didn’t cover that until Advanced Physics in college.”  
Her fingers continued to mull around, now back at her sides and more visible to the others at the table.  
“It’s a prep school, Benton. We have some pretty advanced coursework there, but as she said, she hasn’t had the lab yet, she just knows what the subject of the exhibit is.”  
His eyes narrowed, that was fundamentally untrue, he gave his son a look as if realizing why they were dancing around it. He didn’t care for being lied to at his own table but recognized Jonny was probably target audience for that evasion.  
“I see.”  
Darren finished off his third cup of coffee. “What about you, what have you been working on recently, Benton? Any new projects in the pipeline?”  
A red eyebrow arched, he’d briefed Darren about it a month ago, the man was working in an interim roll for Phil Korvin while he was on bereavement. “None more than the one I started up in November.”  
“Any noteworthy progress?” he asked, happy to move the topic to a safer area, even if it did border on tedium.  
The impatient look he received told him everything his brother never needed to convey about his favorite pain-in-the-ass scientist, he hated being micromanaged and giving useless status reports.  
“What? It might be educational for Venus to hear about… ah… the enzymatic something or other coupling of the… thing that eats non-biologics, you know what I mean.” He hand waved.  
The girl gave her dad a bemused look, “I don’t, no. Does he mean plastics, or does he mean metals… rubbish… what?”  
Benton rolled his eyes at the botched description, Phil had always been better at that.  
“It’s a controlled metabolism of inorganic materials, concrete, metal, plastics, anything that is outside of the biologic sphere. It’s the kind of material that could eat a hole into a wall, but not burn a hand.”  
Venus let out a low whistle, “So the opposite of a neutron bomb keeping the citizens a—or…?” Her eyes went wide as she looked at her brother thinking better of talking about militaristic applications in front of him. She saw Dr. Quest pinching the bridge of his nose, apparently he was also trying to skirt around topics that could be upsetting.  
“…Yeah, I think I should be excused.” Venus reiterated, “May I?”  
“Certainly,” came the frustrated response from Dr. Quest as he glanced at Jonny who was trying desperately to not look like he’d just relived the armed attack that left four people dead.  
Hadji touched Jonny’s hand as if to distract him, “Jonny, have you had a moment to look over your coursework?”  
The teen’s fork clattered to the plate, just thinking of the art project brought him further back to the moment. The sound made his head snap up with a gasp. “Uh… sorry… y-you were saying, dad?”  
Benton’s mouth hung open, trying to find a safer topic, Jessie jumped in. “Dr. Quest, would it be okay if we took the Land Rover into town? There’re some errands Jonny needed us to get to, and it would be a real help to have access to that.”  
“Errands…?” Benton latched on to the lifeline desperately.  
“Yeah, Panchita, I’ll drive you.” Race offered smoothly.  
“If Race is driving, it should be alright.” Benton replied while Venus snuck out of the room. “What errands were you going into town for?”  
Jessie locked eyes with Jonny, hoping he’d chime in.  
“Plumage.” Venus said as she policed her plates, her voice monotone as if she were chastising herself severely.  
Benton shot her a bewildered look, then back at Jonny as the girl disappeared back into the kitchen. “Plumage…?” He had no idea how to decode that.  
“For the dance, Dr. Quest.” Jessie gave, “He hasn’t said just what he needs us to get, but it’s for the dance.”  
“Oh, right, for your date.” He turned to look at the boy and his growing pallor. “Son, did you need to lay down for a little while?”  
“No!” He bit, shaking, “I… I just need a minute alone. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be in the media room…”  
“…Of course.”  
-Dance To Die For JQ-  
The sound of clattering silverware echoed in the expansive kitchen as Venus swore under her breath, scrubbing the plates under scalding hot water. “Damn it, stupid, stupid…” Her stomach was doing flips on her as she ‘cleaned’ the breakfast plate excessively. After washing the same plate, glass, and silverware for five minutes, she loaded it into the dishwasher then snuck around to the upstairs bathroom.  
Her stomach was telling her she had orders to vacate, just like it had sent the same orders for the past several days at varying times.  
With her privacy assured, she emptied her stomach contents into the porcelain bowl and flushed it twice; pulling her toothbrush and toothpaste she looked at her haggard face in the mirror. Thick with self-loathing, she prodded at the peaking shades of purple in the bags under her eyes and at her own pallor. She spat the minty foam then began to gargle with Listerine.  
Once that half of the ritual was over, she looked at her flat looking hair, her hair usually had more luster, but she knew the vitamins were leaving her with all the other nutrients she kept unwillingly depositing after breakfast and lunch or dinner on any given day. She groaned to herself, she was barely keeping one meal a day down. She pulled out her make-up compact and ran the luster dust over her cheeks, hydrating lotion, and peach color-corrector under her eyes to mask the bags and make her look sanguine. Tiredly, she brushed her hair when the knock came to the door.  
She glared at the door. Who the hell would be so crass as to knock on a bathroom door?  
“Occupied,” came her flat response, still using the ceramic flat-iron on her hair to restore some shine for crying out loud.  
The knock repeated.  
“Oh come on, can’t a girl have some privacy?” She bit at herself at the slip in her own disguise.  
“You’ve been in there for thirty minutes, some other people need to use the loo, too.”  
She put her hand to her forehead, incensed. She knew she had to calm down, remember to put on the TV smile, she looked into the mirror. “Everything is fine, everything is great. You’re fine. You’re great.” She reminded her reflection quietly in a sing-song voice. In a much more cheery voice she chimed, “I’ll be out in another five minutes, thank you for your patience.”  
The knock sounded again.  
“Damn it, Race, I said 5 minutes.” Came the equally fake chipper voice.  
“Open the door.” He shot back, hedging no arguments. It made her stomach churl.  
“I will. In five minutes.” She said in an even more chipper voice, she looked at the way her face contorted in the mirror. She felt sick again, damn it she didn’t have time for this. She also needed to throw on some mascara. Speeding up her styling, she finished knocking back the sleep-worn waves in her hair with her straightening iron and then added on some mascara. She saw the doorknob turning, and worse—giving. “WHAT THE HELL?!” She squawked as the door opened, covering herself in a defensive block even though she was fully clothed.  
“Oh get offa the soap box, you can’t keep hogging the—”  
“DAAAAD!” Her scream carried throughout the house, much like Jonny’s would when he was in his normal state of excite.  
Race blinked daftly, not sure at the reaction. Venus began tossing random objects from the vanity at Race.  
“DAD!” Came her sharper scream, she panted, her stomach was flipping violently now, as she began to hyperventilate she threw a container of talcum powder at Race then rushed to the toilet, flipping the lid and vomiting just as Darren reached the door and a powder-caked Race.  
“…What in the actual fuck…?” He looked at his daughter and at Race who, up until the last one, had dodged or caught the various projectiles with much less carnage.  
Race brushed the powder off his shirt with varying degrees of success. “Exhibit A, what she’s been doing after her meals.” He responded unhappily.  
Darren pressed his palm over his forehead. “Yeah? That’s nice, I know this isn’t my house or anything, but could you get the fuck out and give me a minute?” He thumbed the door toward Race, mildly surprised that he actually abided the request.  
With a soft click, Darren closed the bathroom door and turned the lock. He could hear his daughter still retching as she curled over.  
He waited for her to finish, picking up the strewn materials in the interim. He kneeled behind her after the retches changed to sobs and hiccups.  
“Baby, freshen up, we’re going for a car ride.” He said in a controlled calm voice he did not feel.  
Venus turned toward him and leaned forward into his shoulder as she continued to hiccup. He wrapped his arms around her protectively.  
“I know, I know… shush, now…” He whispered into her ear, rubbing her back as she sobbed out more hiccups.  
After a few moments, he pulled back to look over his daughter’s face, he could see the raccoon stains on his shirt from her mascara and let out a humorless laugh, “Ya got me, you did ruin my shirt after all. Now really, brush your teeth again, sweetie.” He chocked his fist into her jaw gently.  
She gave a weak nod, struggling to get back up to her feet, she couldn’t help but feeling dizzy.  
He hooked his arm around her diaphragm to help her when he saw her wavering. The sides of their hips flanked each other. With a shaking hand she pulled out her toothbrush and reloaded it with a pea-sized dab of toothpaste and scrubbed her molars, the backs of her teeth, the fronts, sides, top, cheeks and tongue. She spat the foam into the sink and rinsed it clean, then her toothbrush.  
Darren saw the red on her hands, he kissed the side of her head just above her ear. “Damn it, your old man should’ve done this a while ago, huh?”  
She bowed her head feeling worn.  
“I was hoping we’d make it home before we had this out.”  
Her shoulders shook, she glanced up at the mirror hating her reflection all the more. She reached for a cotton circle and began scrubbing away the smeared mascara, still crying, her lips curled into a contorted, smiling grimace.  
“Hey now, no, put it down. It’s okay. Daddy’s here.” He turned her away from the mirror, “I’ll fix it, just stop looking, okay?”  
With a weak nod, she turned away from the mirror and at him expectantly. He pressed a dry cotton circle beneath her upturned eyes as she frowned through parted lips. He wetted a washcloth and dabbed it over her face, wiping off the makeup mask she’d so carefully applied.  
He took up some toner, wetted a clean cotton circle and wiped off even more make-up; by time he got her to a clean face she was hardly recognizable, she looked gaunt, sickly.  
“…Damn.” He said under breath. “There a scale in here?” He looked around the room and found the requested device.  
“Step on that for me.” He edged her onto it backwards, she didn’t need to see the number that was for damn certain. When it stabilized, he committed the number to memory; he saw her try to glance over and pulled her off it before she’d get it.  
“…Dad?”  
“It said you’re too skinny, perfect otherwise, but too skinny.”  
She nodded tiredly, “…I’m not trying to…”  
“I know.” He cradled her into a hug, “I know; your nerves get the better of you sometimes. And Race means well, he does… but damn, you’d think he’d be better with women with his track record.” He paused to consider that then laughed, “Or shit, maybe worse.”  
Venus smirked slightly at the snark then frowned, “I didn’t want you to worry about me.”  
“I’m not a worry-wart, that’s my brother.” He reminded her, he booped her nose for good measure. He could see her shivering, he wasn’t a fan of that. “If I got you some sugar-water, could you keep that down?”  
“…Grenadine?” She asked tiredly.  
“Well, if they have it, that’d be nice, but I doubt it.”  
“…I’ll try to, but I’m always trying to.”  
“Okay. I want you to go into my room and dig out my two hoodies, you know which ones, the one you like to wear, and the one I like to wear. I’ll get something for you to drink and then we’ll take a car ride and talk.”  
She gave a meek nod, the world felt extra heavy today. Darren was remiss to give up physical contact, his hand pressed against the flat part of her shoulder as he’d spoke with her, the way she shivered under his touch made him worry, it reminded him of that time from years ago. For good measure, he kissed her forehead between her eyes.  
“You’re a sweet girl, go get those hoodies, I’ll get you that drink.” His hand tapped her shoulder before pulling back.  
Obediently, she shuffled out of the bathroom, not looking up around her as she made the trek.  
-Dance To Die For JQ-  
Benton knocked on the door to the media room, “Son, mind if I come in?” The sound of a sob cut through him, he closed his eyes in frustration then forced them open in resolve. He put a firm hand on his boy’s shoulder, pinching and releasing as he tried to break the tension the teen was carrying- both internally and externally.  
“I… I didn’t mean to…” He bowed his head, “…I know no one’s trying to remind me of it… but I just…”  
“You’re doing amazingly, this—it’s hard. It is, and you’re doing so well.” He touched Jonny’s cheek to tilt his head up to look at him. “No one’s mad, no one’s upset, we’re just trying to find that balance—it’s a tightrope walk and sometimes it looks easy, and other times, we stumble.”  
Jonny nodded, “But it’s never easy… It’s always a struggle… I saw her die, and I can’t get it out of my head. They keep screaming until they don’t and I can’t tell what’s worse.”  
Benton reflexively coiled an arm around Jonny’s shoulders to pull him into a hug, kissing his temple, “It’s a rotten affair, I know it but I can never know it like you do. I wish I could take that pain from you, I truly do.”  
“…I have to go back into that place.”  
“No, you don’t, if you want we can arrange home-schooling, or even that boarding school your sister likes—we could—”  
“NO! I mean I have to. I have to see it, see that it’s really stopped.” He bent over himself, curling protectively over his midriff. “I know rationally it is, I do… but there’s that part that just won’t shut up that keeps saying it isn’t…”  
“…Do you… want me to take you there? We could go before classes start back up, I could make that call.”  
“…Do the Lehrers hate me? They blame me, don’t they?” Jonny evaded, “…I think I’d hate me… or blame me… I mean, not really, but when mom… like, when I was a little kid, sometimes I’d say I thought it was you when it wasn’t… but I did it because naming the real monster was too much. It was too scary, too hard to.”  
“I haven’t spoken with them, son. Losing a child… it’s not a pain I’ve ever had to experience, there’ve been times, god knows, where I’ve thought it might’ve happened but I’ve never had to lose that piece of my soul.” He touched his son’s cheek as if he were a talisman, to preserve that fragile part of himself.  
Jonny shook his head, as if refusing to dwell on the dark, “…You know, Cherie, she’s really soft-spoken. I was really surprised she asked me out… I guess I shouldn’t have been, she’s always more confident when she dances and creates stuff… her parents, they travel lots and lots too. Her mom’s a professional fashion photog, and her dad’s a purchaser for Fifth and Sacs. Charlie’s told me about how they go to Paris and Milan all the time…”  
“Oh, really? Have you seen Mrs. Felds’ studio?”  
Jonny shook his head, “No, but I showed her my lenses for my digital SLR, she was jealous, but said models really didn’t need a 20x high-res magnification, she thought that photo of the butterfly wing I took under that mag was cool, said it’d be a great fabric print.”  
Benton smiled, raked his fingers through his own hair as he scratched the back of his head, “When’d that happen?”  
The teenager looked down, embarrassed, “I might be a jerk… I kinda act really nice to Charlie because I like his little sister so much… You know his first name isn’t Charles, it’s Charlemagne. At their house, his parents pronounce it with that Sh sound, not the Ch sound.”  
“Is that so? Are they French?”  
“Mrs. Felds is French-Canadian, Mr. Felds is half French, his mom was born in France but emigrated, I think he said she moved here for work back in the 60s, or at least to America, she used to write in fashion editorials and work under the Coco Chanel firm, she probably would’ve lived in NYC.” He shrugged.  
“You really know a lot about their family…” Benton hinted, though he assumed his son would’ve taken a shine to history, that was one of his secret favorite topics, and that fashion melds so flawlessly with art, he supposed it was inescapable.  
“I just like talking to her. She’s relaxing, she’s like how lavender smells. Just being around her makes me feel so calm, and it’s just… beautiful.”  
The gentle throaty laugh hung in the air, “Oh, I know that look. Relish in it, son, that warm feeling right here…” he gestured just below his own heart, “Those butterflies? That anxious excite? That’s some of the real magic. Young love is full of it, but the older you get the harder it gets to find that fleeting feeling.”  
“Did it feel like that with mom?” Jonny asked softly.  
“No, I mean, it definitely started that way, but that thrum… for me at least, it grew, it wasn’t just here.” He gestured to his chest, swiped his hand down his arms and down to his navel, “It spread, it was like every cell in my body knew. I didn’t ache when she wasn’t there, I felt like we were magnets, always searching, always pulling, and always, always connected in their own right. But love is different for every man, and woman for that matter. It fills you and empties you, it can be consuming or it can nourish you. In that way, it’s like fire.”  
Jonny smiled at his dad doofily, “That’s pretty poetic coming from an engineer.”  
“Ah, well, we engineers are allowed to read some non-scientific papers sometimes.”  
Jonny leaned back into his dad, “…Can you ask the school if I could come in and see it? Maybe Dr. Von Liecht can come, too.”  
“Okay, son, I’ll see what I can pull together.”  
-Dance To Die For JQ-  
Shakily, Venus drank the large, sweating glass of sugar-water as she sat on the edge of the bed in her dad’s dedicated guestroom, the black hoodie swimming around her frame.  
The first third of the glass gulped down, she paused to look at her dad as he in turn watched her.  
After a long moment, she took up drinking the saccharine liquid again. The tremor was slowly dissipating from her spindly fingers but she couldn’t help but feel cold, and she practically never felt cold. She finished the last leg of the sugar-water and set down the glass, she felt dizzy for not taking in enough air while chugging the liquid.  
Lying backward, she closed her eyes for a moment, arms spread wide on the bed, reveling in the feeling of the baggy sweatshirt, she took in the smell of the room, it wasn’t quite as familiar as her real home, there was the smell of mothballs that malingered with the scent of coffee, tobacco, leather, and musk, all the smells she readily associated with her dad. Then there was the smell of their fabric softener and detergent, which was practically foreign, it all smelled so manly and not at all like the ones they’d used. Her dad always defaulted to letting her just pick them, and she veered from ‘fresh linen’ for the ‘meadow springs’ or ‘fresh rain’. From her supine position, her eyes searched out her dad’s, looking across her bottom lashes, she saw him, arms crossed, leg crossed, smiling at her—trying not to look as stressed as he felt. She breathed out a sigh.  
“…I messed up…” Venus said in quiet reproof.  
“Sweetie, just let that go right now. Once those calories hit, we’ll take that drive.”  
Venus nodded, curled to her side to take in the smells of the room. Even back at their own home, she rarely ever ventured into her dad’s inner sanctum, his study, sure—but his bedroom always seemed so shrouded, like his innermost workings she just shouldn’t intrude on unless it was critical, and it never seemed to be, especially after they’d renoed the house.  
“Race was being mean,” She said absently in complaint, “…who barges in on a girl in the bathroom for Pete’s sake.”  
“Snow was just worried about you, and he’s always been more direct than me. Funny, that.”  
“I don’t know, you’re pretty direct.” Venus offered.  
The scoff brushed gently across the air, “I’m only direct when I get sick of you not picking up the blatantly passive-aggressive hints I drop, which, I’ll give you, can get pretty frequent.” He winked at the girl. “I suppose you’re still stimming something awful, and that you’re trying to look normal, but sweetie, looking normal doesn’t make you normal, it makes you stim worse.”  
Venus nodded from her curled position, “…I already said I messed up.”  
“That’s not about messing up, princess.” Darren sat at the foot of the bed, he pulled the laid-up hoodie and put it on over his mascara-stained dress shirt. “It’s about talking about your stress, and I let you get away with not doing that. That’s on me.”  
Venus sat up, “No, it’s on me, dad.” She flopped into his back, “You tried, but I just… I put the mask on and I felt like if I took it off too many times it’d chip, so I just left it on instead… and I know that doesn’t work. You know I suck at deep ops.”  
“Baby, you don’t suck at anything. Deep ops always have a blood-price, and truth be told, we’re the kind who pay the higher going rate. It doesn’t mean we’re bad at it at all, it’s just a rip-off.” He patted her hair, twined it around his fingers, the silky locks felt thinned down somehow. “Let’s take that car ride, okay?”  
Venus nodded into his shoulder.  
While Darren knew that Jessie and Hadji were getting an eyeful, he was just glad they didn’t seem to be calling Venus out on it, hell knew he’d known the kids who took pot-shots at giants back in New York. His daughter watched the floor as she walked, that earlier bluster of confidence AWOL. He didn’t like that, if even the pride was gone she really had burnt through the tank of emotional reserves. Shit, she really hadn’t been joking about being past critical mass before. Darren spotted Race and gave a slight nod.  
“…Dad, where’re we going to drive to?” Came her tired response, the monotone seemed heavy in the hallway.  
“You know, we missed our daddy-daughter date for December. I know the holidays sneak up like that, but with everything that happened, you and me— we skipped on my favorite tradition.”  
Her arms wrapped across her stomach and she sniffled. “I wasn’t trying to…”  
“So, where would you like to go? We’re going to have to double up, I simply won’t permit a by-month.” He cut her off, he offered her the hook in his elbow. Blue orbs flitted over his posture and the offered arm, she laced her closer hand through, and rested the opposing hand over it and across her frame.  
She nodded, “…Can you pick this one?”  
“Yeah, let’s drive up to Rockport and do some window shopping. Would that be fun?”  
With a frown, she nodded. They walked toward the car park and Darren opened the door for her. Once they were in the car, doors closed and more importantly, the leather seat warmers engaged, Venus looked up at the brunette, their matching set of blue eyes locking.  
“…Daddy… I don’t want to go back to New York yet.” She swallowed hard, “I know I blew this… I made such a mess… and I’m supposed to be better at putting on a damn act, but he almost died and I wasn’t there for him.”  
“Fuuuuuhhh… I… okay, let’s start that drive, we’ve gotta talk about that, sweetie. About what that means to you…”  
Venus nodded. “I’m not saying I should hang up my cleats… And I get it if I have to go back for… labs… or projects, for that matter, but we’ve always had some remote work options.” She hiccupped as she suppressed her own waterworks, “I know you don’t owe me any favors like that, with how bad I mucked up these last few weeks… but… but…”  
“You didn’t mess up anything, sweetie. You were trying to do a really, really noble thing, but it backfired. It’s because you don’t know when to use brakes. Oh, you know what they are, but you just willfully refuse them.” He charmed her with a smile. “So you want to live here? With the Quests?”  
“And with you! You’re my dad.” She reiterated fiercely.  
“Oh, I know that, sweetie. You couldn’t get rid of me with thermite.” His hand left the stick-shift to rest on her hair, his fingers twirled the threads again. “You’re getting too good at sneaking some things though. This’s been going on since we got here, hasn’t it?”  
She wouldn’t meet his eyes, which frankly was confirmation enough.  
“Baby, you know what happens if you just let things like this go… it only makes it harder for you to bounce back from…” He wasn’t sure how to really put that, what? You have epic meltdowns when you fake everything’s perfect when it’s really, really not for almost a month without any decompression space? “All that collateral damage. Damn, these last twelve months have been a bear.”  
Venus toed off her shoes, tucking her sock-clad feet onto the leather seat as they drove. “I feel like I’m split in four ways… I always thought drawn and quartering was pretty awful, but this confirms it.”  
Darren laughed, “Only four ways? You know we’re going to have to talk about this with Benton. There’s a lot of logistics to this. Adult men don’t normally just go living with each other. We might need an apartment nearby.”  
“…Race seemed to do it pretty smoothly.” Venus shot back in jest.  
“Yeah, well, redheads aren’t my type, b’sides three’s a crowd.” He gibed, “And I don’t think it’s necessarily the best for you to be living there all the time just yet. There’re a lot of strong personalities and you haven’t gotten to get to know them and find how you click. You and Jessie barely get along, and she’s trying…”  
The girl frowned at that.  
“I’m not saying it’s your fault. I think you’re trying in your way, too, but four ways—you still haven’t gotten your feet under you, or even know the ups and downs. I’d say that’s pretty disorienting.”  
“…My stomach still hurts.” She said quietly, rocking in her perched position. Darren’s hand returned to the shift-box as he moved the car up to the next gear. “…Everything hurts. He almost left too.”  
“But he didn’t.” Darren said firmly. “He didn’t, and we’re here now. We’ll make it work, you and me—we’re good at that, aren’t we?”  
“Y-yeah…”  
“And you trust me? I trust you implicitly.”  
“I do, daddy.”  
Darren pulled the car over. “Okay then you trust that we’ll make this work. It might be slower than you want, but getting to that point is just like a car throttle. If you just flood it with fuel, it won’t go faster. It’ll stall out and then you’re stuck walking. No, you gotta ease into it to get up to top speed. It’s a finesse issue, but I need you to work on two things. You’ve got to find your way to decompress while we’re here, and you’ve got to try harder to get along with Race and Jessie. They’re part of Jonny’s family too.”  
Venus tucked her chin down.  
“I don’t know why you don’t like Jessie, I mean, sure she’s a little much with trying to best everyone, but she’s just a type-A, you’re used to that type of people, and you know the way around it is cooperative competition. You’re just being stubborn and being a non-player.”  
“Or I could just mop the floor with her a few times and make a point…” Venus mumbled.  
“Yeah, because as Jonny demonstrated, she learns her lessons so well and never possibly doubles down. She’s got drive, you should appreciate that. She’s not all that different from you or Jonny for that matter.”  
Her breathing shaky, Venus shoved her feet back into her sneakers and looked around the street they’d parked on.  
“Let’s do a gallery crawl around here. We’ll have to tell Jonny about some of the local artists we find and their painting style.” His voice drifted warmly over her as she nodded along. In a cooler tone he added, “And after that, we’ll get brunch.”  
-Dance To Die For JQ-  
As he sat in the front-center of the media room, Jonny was glued to the first documentary as he tried to chase away the earlier demons of the day. The true paranormal activity—the dead and how they haunt the mind.  
“…Wow, organic arsenics… that’s one helluva preservative.” He droned to himself, watching the restoration artist blend the components while wearing a PAPR and thick nitrile gloves. He didn’t see his dad step into the room behind him, or Race for that matter as the adults took a seat on the couch to watch along with him.  
When the documentary hit the intro to the next painting, Jonny hit the pause button then wheeled back from so close to the TV.  
“Planning to write down those paint formulas?” Race asked from his outstretched position.  
Jonny smiled as he turned to face him, “When’d you two sneak in? What time is it anyway?”  
The adults shrugged without comment. “It’s a little before noon.”  
“I like this series, it’s really thorough… You got two of the ones from this?”  
Benton nodded, “I did, but we can get the rest of it if you’d like.”  
The blond busted out a large smile. “This is the coolest chemistry I’ve ever seen.” That earned him a rich laugh from his dad.  
“I’m glad you think it’s neat.” He stood up, approaching his son, “I’ve spoken with the principal, given the circumstances, they’ve agreed that we could go into the school next weekend, and Dr. Von Liecht can accommodate that in his schedule.”  
The teenager nodded, smile faltering. “…Good.”  
“As for that other errand of yours…” Benton started. Jonny’s head shot back up, looking into his dad’s blue eyes. “Son, you really shouldn’t be moving around too much, if you can keep it to under an hour, though…”  
“I just need to go to two places, dad. I have to pick out the corsage to order, it’d be rude to ask someone else to do that for me!”  
“Easy, I’m not saying no. So the first errand is the florist, what’s the other?”  
“…I need to pick up a teal dress-shirt and maybe a tie… I’m on the fence about a white tie or a black tie. At first I was thinking of doing a teal tie and a white dress-shirt, but I think a teal shirt would go better.” He tapped his fingers together, “I asked Jessie to help.”  
“Teal…?” Benton rubbed his beard, imagining it, it was a strange color to land on.  
“Yeah, Cherie got a teal dress. Sis even managed to get me a picture of it.”  
“Of what exactly?” His eyebrow arched, that girl really was a handful.  
“Sis found out what dress Cherie got for the dance and found it in the store, she snapped a polaroid of it on the rack for me.” He glanced over to see Race run a hand down his face.  
“…Reconnaissance for a dress? And she didn’t think that was a bit much?” He said under his breath. “You know, usually you just ask your date what color her dress is.”  
Jonny rolled his eyes, “You think I didn’t? She was having a hard time deciding, and dad I already told you what her parents do, you think she doesn’t get that pressure? Be stylish—but not avant-garde, don’t follow the trend, set the trend- oh and do that in small-town America, but don’t use your dad’s inventory, that’s gauche.” Jonny imagined aloud, he was twisting the wheels of his chair to move him back and forth in antsy movements.  
“Alright, alright… I surrender, Jonny.” Race held up his hands, “Your sister just usually has a way of going overboard… but if you prompted her…” Race didn’t fill in then he was absolutely sure she’d gone over-board.  
The teen stopped spinning his wheels. “She’s acting really off, isn’t she?”  
Both adults exchanged a dry look. “How do you mean, kiddo?” Race jumped ahead to gauge.  
Articulating it was hard, he found, “I think she’s probably as stressed as I’ve been feeling, I dunno why she would be that stressed though… I mean, I know everyone’s stressing about what happened too, don’t get me wrong, but I’m the one recovering… you’re just, well, stuck coping with that.”  
He felt a hand touch his shoulder, “I think I know what you’re trying to say, your sister is a perfectionist. She is trying to cope, and she’s been trying to cope with a plethora of things, and I think she’s past capacity with everything she can cope with and is out of her depths. After a point, it became an avalanche.”  
Looking at his lap, Jonny frowned, “So, Race, you think she went agent-mode because she feels more in control that way? That she skipped the easy, normal route and did something weird?”  
Race shrugged, “She’s been doing a lot of things to increase her sense of control… and that’s not usually a good handle.”  
“…So is that why she’s been losing weight?”  
Benton winced, he’d hoped his son hadn’t realized it, but then, he had also been trying to get her to eat in his own rights.  
“…She’s dropped about 10 pounds from when I met her, and she’s always been skinny, but now she looks skeletal.” He sighed, “I just kept along with her charade, when she smiles like that… I mean, it’s just so easy to just roll with it, I know she wasn’t really happy, but I didn’t really think she’d hurt herself.”  
By Benton’s calculation, the girl had dropped closer to 15 pounds, he doubted her weight would hit triple digits, cynically he realized she was probably using special FX make-up tricks to make herself look healthier than she was. “If your sister wants to put on an act, Jonny, you know first-hand that she’s highly capable of it. All we can do is try to be mindful and work through that, which is no different than anything else. I think once she realizes she doesn’t have to pretend, or have to pantomime for our sakes that she’ll be able to release some of the toxic level of stress she’s still carting around.”  
He nodded mutely, “…She’s more sensitive than she likes to let on, huh?”  
Race laughed, “Welcome to the world of women. First rule, if they say they’re fine, they are not—and you should agree anyway and then good luck figuring out what’s wrong.”  
Benton nudged Race under the ribs, “Jonny, maybe we should save this conversation for when she’s here. Let her know she doesn’t have to do the heavy lifting alone.”  
With a firm nod, Jonny looked back at the large TV screen. “…Yeah. Yeah, I guess so.” He powered off the screen. “Can we go into town now, before I get too worn out?”  
“Of course.”  
-Dance To Die For JQ-  
Inside the Quests’ Land Rover, Jonny pressed the button to raise the ramp up, the benefits of having a world-class engineer and scientist for a dad; he was quick to install a working hydraulic wheelchair ramp to the large vehicle. He maneuvered himself to the rear center row of seating that had been converted for wheelchair storage before he debated if he should move over to the regular chair. Before he could make the judgment call, his dad clipped the wheelchair to secure it to the tether and slipped the two hooks around the wheels so the spokes would lock, then added another set of straps to the chair to secure it across the length of the vehicle and mimic a lap-band in case there were a collision.  
“Isn’t this overkill?” He asked his dad, “I mean, I could’ve just hopped over to the seat…”  
“Could you have?” He asked pointedly. Jonny chewed his lip.  
“Maybe once or twice…”  
His dad put a hand on his shoulder as he pushed up from the rear of the vehicle, “Don’t push yourself for the sake of pushing yourself. The bench seats wouldn’t give you enough core-support and the shoulder-strap in the event of a fender bender could burst a stitch.”  
“…I guess.” He said solemnly, apparently his dad had already spec’d out the options. He wondered if the Land Rover could fit two wheelchairs though, would he even still need his wheelchair in two weeks? He frowned, he was making progress but not that kind of progress! “…But can two of us fit back here?”  
“For the dance? There’s a configuration, yes.” He patted his shoulder, “It might not feel like it’s back to normal, but I can assure you, it’ll be as close to that as we can get.”  
Benton felt an arm slip around him awkwardly to give him a hug and reached his own around the front of his son’s shoulders to return it, kissing his hair, “Thanks dad.”  
“Don’t mention it.” He clapped his shoulder again and pulled back, “Now go find that dress shirt, I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”  
He nodded and waited for everyone else to load up the car. Hadji and Jessie sat in the middle row so they could discuss strategy while Race drove. “So, Jonny, does it make more sense to get your outfit squared away before you get the corsage?”  
“Yeah, I think that works.” He smiled, “I’m on the fence about a teal tie or a teal shirt and then a tie—a white one or maybe a black one?”  
“Or you could get a patterned one, we’ll see what they have. Do you have a tie-bar that you want to use?”  
He nodded, “Yeah, I thought the silver-toned one.”  
At the Macy’s parking lot, Race hung the temporary handicap tag off the rearview mirror as he pulled into the van-access space. “Kids, we’re here.” Race hit the automated switch that opened the rear door and started the descent of the hydraulic ramp. Jessie and Hadji got out of the Land Rover and waited for Jonny at the side of the vehicle as he undid the clips, undoing it was much, much easier than fastening them, he noticed. Once the wheels were unlocked, he maneuvered himself down the ramp and toward Jessie and Hadji.  
Taking in the site of the department store, and the small crowds, he took an appreciative breath, he wasn’t quite going stir crazy at the house since he could barely get up and about, but intellectually he was. It would be nice to be lost in a crowd. He eyed his ‘ride’ and suddenly realized how unlikely that would be. Race closed up the hydraulic lift then locked up the vehicle, rejoining the group a few steps behind.  
Jonny wheeled himself toward the sidewalk with the dip for wheelchair access and then to the automated doors. They’d lucked out and parked across from the men’s formal section, which he realized Race had done on purpose, of course he did, normally they didn’t really do the whole ‘mall’ thing, but it didn’t mean they didn’t ever go to them, they just didn’t waste time bumming around them! It made sense Race would know all the logistics and how to get where they needed to be.  
They’d be in and out… real fast, Jonny groaned at the thought of returning to that stillness so quickly, he smiled as he thought about breakfast with all the moving pieces around him—Darren and Venus bickering quietly to themselves, Jessie and Hadji flirting under the table, his dad and Race trying to carry conversations among all the distracted people, and he’d enjoyed just watching it, but then the rest of the day, or at least most of the others, had been sequestered to bed rest or sitting peacefully and trying to occupy himself because if he didn’t find a topic to study, he’d quickly fall back into remembering what had happened in the school and he just couldn’t keep himself in that space.  
He eyed the department store and wheeled over toward the rows of dress shirts. He spotted a teal collared shirt on the opposite side of the display and wheeled around it until he ran into the first rack he had to maneuver around. It reminded him of practicing to parallel park—a rarity when Race was bored and in a good enough mood to chance his car to an under-aged driver.  
Jonny reversed back to maneuver yet another sale rack leg and hit a column, the jar from it made him swallow back a hissing wince, his hand left the wheel to wrap around his stomach; being bumped like that still hurt like hell.  
“You okay kiddo?” Race asked, pushing the too-close rack away six inches so the chair could clear, he frowned at the look on Jonny’s face as the boy tried to push it down.  
“…Yeah, I’m just great.” He let out a long breath and drew in an equally long one. With his way cleared now, he rolled up to the dress shirt and unfolded it—it was short-sleeved, he didn’t quite police himself as he let out a breathy, “Damn it…”  
Hadji waved Jonny over toward another rack three over, he and Jessie had pulled two shirts for consideration. As he looked at the rough terrain he steeled himself when he heard Race’s voice, “Let me steer.”  
Jonny looked around the department, it wasn’t crowded, but it was still a little embarrassing to be pushed around like an invalid, but it was probably more painful to run into all the obstacles and enough of those and he’d feel like one. “Sure.”  
His hands folded onto his lap as he scanned the area, he spotted some ties worth looking at when they arrived to the set of full-sleeve dress-shirts. Hadji had pulled a teal pull-over sweater, Jessie had pulled two teal button-down shirts—one a dark teal, the other a true teal.  
Looking over his options, he thought the dark teal might work with the right tie, he eyed the tie rack, “Hey Jess, do you think the dark teal one would go with that patterned one? The black and teal striped one?”  
About to reach for it, he stopped when his extended reach was just shy by six inches. His hand returned to his lap, if he over-extended he’d feel it, he knew that, but fuck he was frustrated.  
“That one, Jonny?” Race pulled it and handed the tie to the teen.  
“Yeah, thanks.” He said trying to mask his own glumness and having to be so reliant on the others. He laid it over the dark teal shirt and felt disappointed at how dark it looked.  
“I don’t think that works, try it over the bold teal one.” Jessie suggested, handing him the other shirt.  
“…Yeah, I like that better. But what about a solid colored tie? Actually, no—what about that one?” He gestured toward a plaid-patterned tie that had blacks, greys, and a thin zigzagging line of teal throughout. Together it looked a lot less like he was about to start up a small business and ask for a bank loan.  
“Yeah, that looks good.” Jessie concurred. Nearby, Jonny saw a plaid-checkered pair of dress socks in like color pattern and did reach to snag those, the items just barely in his limits.  
He looked it over, imagining them with his black chukkas, black slacks, and peacoat. It would be pretty drab and dark until he doffed his jacket, but it would still look good. “Yeah, I think that’s it. Is that French cuff? Do I need cufflinks?”  
Jessie looked them over, “No, they have a button.”  
He nodded, “Okay, then yeah, I’m set… so maybe charcoal-grey, silver, and teal ribbons on the corsage? I think a rose would be a better bet so it’s not too loud.”  
With a smile, Jessie blew out a soft laugh, “Jonny, I thought you were into art, not fashion. That sounds really swank.” She crossed her arms, “If I knew you were that good with accessorizing, I’d have made you help me in Paris!”  
Jonny shot a laugh, “There was nothing you were going to do to get me in a lingerie shop with you two… and after that stop you didn’t want anything to do with me, either.” He laughed thicker, the distant memory felt nostalgic some several months after the fact but at the time it had been awful.  
Apparently, though, Jessie didn’t feel the waxing poetry of remembering her best friend bellowing on the streets of Paris about the horrors of bra shopping, particularly that she’d done so with Hadji, and in front of her dad, Jonny’s smile faltered.  
“Oh… oh god, I didn’t mean to…” He winced at his faux pas, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say something so awkward.”  
Sandwiched between two Bannons, Jonny felt acutely aware of how bad a flub that was, he didn’t think he’d say something so bad if he wasn’t on the pain killers, but at the same time—those were getting him through the day not lying in bed anguishing each breath.  
He looked around and saw a few onlookers he’d assumed overheard him, but then again, it could be his ‘sweet ride’ they were all gawking at. He lowered his head, suddenly feeling very tired from the first errand.  
“Jonny, it’s alright…” Jessie offered at seeing him wilt, “I know that’s not how you meant it. I really should start recording you though, once you feel better you’ll be cringing for months.”  
“Jessie.” Race warned, “Okay, let’s go check out.”  
Race pushed the subdued teenager to the register, there was a line of three people ahead of them, and Race noticed two or three others walking up behind them, he was surprised to see the men’s department this busy, especially just after New Year’s Eve.  
“…You’re Jonny Quest, aren’t you?”  
Race whipped around to shoot a warning stare at the man who approached the teen.  
“Huh?” Jonny turned his head to look, “…” His eyes went wide as he saw a handful of people starting to do the infamous swarm technique he’d seen his dad endure at conferences.  
“You’re the town-hero! You saved all those school kids, I recognize you from the paper.” Came the man, he looked like he was too young to have high-school aged kids. Jonny looked left and right as the small swarm formed.  
“…I just did what anyone would’ve in my position, sir.” He offered humbly. “I’m just here to do my shopping like anybody else.”  
That didn’t appease the swarm though, another question shot up. “Did you know the killers? They never said in the paper how you reacted so quickly…”  
Jonny reached his hand back toward the wheel, his hand brushed skin which made him whip his head around, he was thankful it was Race, who seemed to be thinking of the escape tactic.  
“Hadji, can you finish up with this? I’ll get Jonny situated in the car.”  
“Did you know the dead girl? Amy Lehrer?” Came another news-junky.  
Jonny felt his voice die in his throat, “We’re just here to do our shopping, he’s not taking interviews.” Race said firmly, he pulled Jonny’s wheelchair back through the crowd, some of them decent enough to step aside.  
One hand shot toward him, touching his left arm, “I think what you did was incredibly brave.”  
The teen jerked his arm quickly away reflexively, stomach pain be damned, “Please don’t touch me. I didn’t do anything special.”  
“Nothing special? You saved all those lives!” Came the shocked response. “Oh, you’re shy… that makes sense, that’s why he hasn’t done interviews. I’m surprised a Quest could be bashful, I thought they all took all those polishing lessons. Heck, I heard the Quests practically get paramilitary training! With moves like that, I believe it.”  
“Jonny, we’re going. Kids, meet us at the car.”  
Hadji and Jessie nodded grimly, Jessie flanked Jonny’s side to give him an added buffer, “Dad, I’ll come with you two.”  
Back in the Land Rover, Jonny curled into his stomach gasping as he endured several flashbacks—Amy’s shoes twitching, the screams, the sounds of gunshots, the color of misty grey and death.  
Panting, he didn’t realize Race wasn’t locking his wheels, he set both hands on the arms of Jonny’s chair, staring up into his obscured face. “Kiddo, listen to my voice, I’m right here with you. You’re with me, in the car, take a deep breath.”  
He saw a rapid nod but doubted the kid was back on planet Earth with him. No, he was orbiting a black hole, and Race wanted to get him pulled away from it ASAP. The boy stuttered a long breath and sputtered out his exhale, he could see the tears starting to form.  
“It’s a mild wintery day, the skies are clear, there’s a light breeze carrying in some crisp ocean air, Jonny, can you count five things you can see?”  
“…T-the car…” Jonny’s head lifted, his lips trembling as his eyes scanned out the window, “Buildings, m-my shoes…” He scowled as the tears started in earnest, “Amy’s shoes… they just kept… kept…”  
Race wrapped him into a hug, “Kiddo, you’re not alone. We’ve got you.”  
He nodded, his own arms curling up Race’s back to return the hug, “I’m so tired…”  
“I can believe it.” Race responded, pulling back to see the devastated teen. Jonny’s hands reached to pull his own hair, forming a protective buffer over his injured center.  
“B-but I have to… to…” In a move Race had never seen Jonny perform, he watched the kid swing a hand down hard to punch the arm of the wheelchair. “I didn’t ask for this! I just want it to go away… make it so it never happened!”  
Race caught his fist before he could make another round, the risk of him pulling a stitch exponential to each of these exaggerated movements. Jonny knew better, he knew the kid did—but he didn’t think he was there enough to realize what he was risking.  
“Stop it.” He said in a flat warning, “You want to be able to dance with Cherie, don’t you? If you pop open a stitch you’ll hardly be able to sit up for it, let alone actually keep your word and dance with the girl.”  
The soft rebuke stilled the teen, cutting him in half by the looks of it. The shell-shocked face that looked up at him made him seriously consider driving him home and then coming back for Hadji when the Indian teen reached the car.  
“…Jonny, I have your dress clothes. Race, we need to buckle him in so that we may go on to the florist, is that not right, Jonny?” His sagely calm voice seemed to wash over the teen in a way Race was quite frankly grateful for.  
“Hadj? …Yeah, I need to get her corsage… we came out to do that…” He said as if reminding himself of where he even was. “…White flowers, they’ll be pretty… won’t clash… Maybe a sprig of lavender, so it’ll smell good…”  
“Lavender? Hadji, take notes, Jonny’s got this stuff in the bag. I take back all those gibes about you not knowing how to charm a girl, Quest. Who’d have thought a goof like you could…” She stopped when her dad gave her the ‘wrap it up’ look.  
Shaking his head, Jonny looked around the Land Rover, calming himself as he felt the safety latches connect. Wheels locked, chair tethered to a bracket on the floorboard, and to the sides.  
“…See a white bag with a red star, shock-cord, Jess’s grey sweater, Hadj’s suede gloves, and… the dome light.”  
“Yeah? That’s great, what’re four things you can hear?” Race prompted, glad he was finally going through the exercise.  
“…My heart’s racing, I can hear that, Hadji’s breathing—way calmer than mine, tapping… Jessie’s tapping her nails… and the engine idling.”  
“That’s real good kiddo, three this you can touch?”  
Jonny’s hand subconsciously moved around his surroundings, “…Fuzzy fleece… it’s warm, the chill in the air on my neck and face…” he licked his lips, “…I can feel my scar… it’s pulsing.”  
Locking in on his visage from the rearview mirror, Race watched the boy almost as much as he watched the road. He didn’t like the sound of that. “…Two things you can sense.” He threw, the boy had modified it by confusing touch and feel, but he knew better than to throw the boy a curveball when he was trying so hard to follow the instructions, it was unfair.  
“…Calm anger…” He looked at his brother, Hadji was radiating calm-pissed. It was his special blend of ‘I am very mad but I will meditate on this to not be obvious,’ that Jonny usually triggered when he did something like snag the last of Hadji’s curry pocket microwavable meals. “…and worried annoyance, guessing that’s Jessie sending those vibes.” He laughed.  
“I feel really tired, can we do this one quickly…? I wanna lie down for a while.”  
“Sure thing, kiddo. We’re here. Let’s head on in, are you up for that?”  
“Need to…” He said, though everyone in the car could tell how out of it he was. The exertion clearly showing as fatigue over his weary face, Race made fast work unfastening the wheelchair. The sooner this errand was over, the better.  
Inside the florist shop, Race closed out the exercise, he leaned next to Jonny’s ear, “One thing you smell?”  
The teen breathed through his mouth and then nose, he took another deep breath before he could identify it. “I smell irises… those were mom’s favorite.” He blinked tiredly as Race brought him to the counter. He scanned the boutique, there were so many fragrant flowers, and so many richly colored, vibrant blooms.  
He liked the feeling of being around so much vitality, it felt so different then where his mind had been, the mix of so many cheery colors and smells felt so strangely different than they had in the hospital, in the hospital it just seemed like a dirge. Blinking back to himself, he felt as if he was coming awake and wasn’t sure when he’d somehow fallen asleep, or more likely into a trance. His dad was going to be mad, he suspected.  
Jessie pulled the book of corsages and boutonnieres for Jonny to scroll through, “Ma’am, do you have a pen and paper?” The teen asked, surprising his counterparts.  
“Here you are.” The woman behind the counter said, pulling a note-card for him, she set the black ballpoint on the counter near his reach.  
“I’d like to get a corsage made up for the dance in two weeks… I’d like it to look a little like this…” He did a rough sketch of three roses, the center in half-bloom, the two flanking it still budded, sprigs of lavender stuck out in five places, he sketched the fastening ribbons and frill ribbons then labeled each for color and the greenery—maidenhair ferns and short-clipped eucalyptus.  
The woman first looked at the sketch as if expecting it to be rudimentary, she blinked back in surprise as she saw the well thought out design. “…I could do that.”  
“Can you make a matching boutonniere to go with it? It can be a lot less frills—maybe just two rosebuds starting to open up, some more eucalyptus and surrounded by lavender, wrapped in a charcoal grey ribbon and a teal fastener? Is that doable?”  
The woman sketched as Jonny spoke. “Like this?”  
A slightly more sophisticated drawing than Jonny’s was stylistically, it mirrored the corsage he’d drawn out but had more masculine lines. “…That’d be perfect. Can you?”  
She nodded, “I can, we recommend picking them up same day, usually four hours before so the flowers will recover from the cold and let them acclimate to room temperature.”  
“Yes ma’am.”  
The florist looked over at Hadji who was doing his best to not look as though he’d ordered anything from her shop in days previous and smiled. “Well, then, let me run the numbers and calculate the price.”  
Jonny nodded, “Thank you, ma’am.”  
She looked over his wheelchair and at his entourage, “Did you want English Lavender or French Lavender?”  
“…French, please.” He said, “Oh, what variety of white roses do you have? Do you have that one with that green tint or are they true white?”  
“I have both, I think a starch-white would look sharpest.”  
Jonny nodded, “Same here.”  
She smiled politely, “Alright, for both it will come to $30.73 with tax.”  
Race pulled out his wallet to get the credit card and gave it to the florist to process.  
“…The Winter Dance it one of my favorites.” The woman offered, “Most schools around here don’t do it.” She stopped herself from waxing on about her glory days, with a swipe of the card she wrote up the receipt and handed it back to Race. “Thanks for your business, enjoy the dance!”  
“Thanks.” Jonny smiled, still feeling the strain from the errands. He saw the time and could hardly believe how fifty minutes had been so exhausting. The trip back to the Quest Compound found Jonny slumping over, falling asleep.  
-Dance To Die For JQ-  
Awaking in his bed to a tongue-bath from his peppy bulldog, Jonny blinked upward to stare into the dark brown orbs.  
“Hey boy, when’d I get back here…?” He yawned, looking over the room and out the window, he’d lost a large slice of the day, by the looks of it, it was probably three or four in the afternoon. He sat up carefully, cradling his stomach.  
There was no question that it was time for his next dose of pain killers, the tender flesh begging for relief. He knew the pain meds didn’t actually deliver that reprieve, only numbing the rest of him from feeling it, “Ugh… I need to get up boy. Did you get a chance to run around outside, huh?”  
He spotted his wheelchair and let out a longer sigh. It was at his desk, not even close to what he could reach to.  
“…Apparently, I’m supposed to get some rest.” He muttered to his companion, busying himself with scratching his ears and rubbing his rump. He closed his eyes again, curling to his side to border his dog and protect his stomach in case the fur-ball got the bright idea to dart off the bed.  
He heard a soft knock on the door and turned to face it, surprised. As the door cracked open, Jonny barely recognized the façade visiting him.  
“…Sis?”  
The girl rushed toward his bed and fell onto it, throwing her arms over him in a hug.  
“Woah! Careful… what’s wrong?!” He said as he hugged her back. He frowned as he felt just how slight she felt under his arms. “You can tell me what’s wrong, Venus. I want you to.”  
With a nod, she tucked her head into the crook of his neck. It surprised him, that was how she usually hugged her dad.  
“You feel like you’re wasting away.” He said in a heavy voice. “…I don’t want that to happen. Are you sick?”  
She shook her head, tucked her face into his neck, her breath on his collarbone. “I… I’m sorry. I was trying really hard to not make things harder on you, and then I went and messed that all up.”  
He patted her hair, looking up at the ceiling. “You were trying to put on a brave face for me?”  
He felt her head tuck, god his stomach was starting to claw.  
“…You know, when mom… when she was dying… I did the same thing. I promised and promised her everything would be okay, and I knew I was lying, I knew nothing would ever be okay again, but I lied and lied… and I know she knew why I did it. I don’t think mom was mad at me, she knew I was desperate to give her something… to make it easier for her when what she was doing was so impossibly hard…” He brought his hand to his sister’s cheek, tilted it upward so he could look into her face. “But I don’t think mom wanted to make it harder on me, she knew it was going to be so hard when she was gone, and I don’t want you to take so much on my account. That’s not fair for you to take everything onto yourself trying to lighten my load to the point of it being too heavy for you. I don’t want that. I don’t want you to be alone like that. That’s the worst part, and I won’t ever ask you to be alone.”  
He watched as the tears started to gush. “I was so scared you were going to disappear and that’s all I’d ever be… you know I love my dad… but… but I love you too, and I thought you’d leave, just like Becky, like Tom, like Ana and Viktor and Sonja…”  
“I know I scared you, I didn’t mean to.”  
“And if I was there you wouldn’t have been doing it alone!”  
“…You mean at the school?” His eyebrows rose, “I’m glad no one else was there or in the way of those lunatics. Too many people were in their way… Cherie and Charlie, Amy, Peter, Ms. M., me… none of us deserved to be there or hurt like that. And I know you understand how I feel. It’s how you felt when you chose to run and leave me behind when we were being chased by Jenna… you put yourself at risk so I’d be okay because you knew I could blend in, but I could not outrun her. It was like that. I faced that alone and that was my choice. It was a non-choice, because the other options had more collateral damage and were unacceptable…” he swallowed against his drying throat, “but knowing that, I knew—well, once I saw it, that the people I thought I was protecting were really safe, I knew they were okay. Sis, let me tell you what being okay really means… it doesn’t mean everything is perfect and fine. It doesn’t mean things are great, it means what is is, and that it’s good enough, that you can deal, that you can live, and that you can make it be good enough even if it isn’t yet. You don’t need to swallow all your pain and as much as mine or anyone else’s you can gorge. That doesn’t fix anything, you just need to know that whatever is, is, and that if it’s not good enough, you can make it be. So I need you to make yourself be better. I know that’s selfish, you’ve been trying so hard to make me be better and I’m just bossing you around… but you feel emaciated. You have to eat. So stop eating your pain and sadness, eat real food, and share those feelings instead.”  
She leaned her head back into his collarbone and nodded, “Can I stay in here for a while? I don’t want to be alone.”  
“…That’s okay, I don’t want you to be, either, but before you take a nap, can you maybe get my afternoon meds? My stomach’s killing me.”  
She nodded.  
“…And get yourself some cocoa?”  
That earned him a frown, but she nodded to acquiesce anyway.  
“I’ll tell you about what I got if you do.” He smiled mischievously, attempting to bribe her into it.  
“…Okay. Jonny… I told dad that I want us to move here.” She looked down, “…he said we can’t just do that, but we’re going to work toward it… you remember what you told me after I ran away from you on Halloween?”  
He blinked at her in stunned shock.  
“…You said you’d rather face things together instead of alone, because then you know you have someone to rely on and can help each other. You’d rather both be at risk and reduce it or share it than for one person to take all of it on themselves… you were right. I’d rather do that too if the risk isn’t on me, I’d rather take some from you so it’s never just you dealing with it alone.”  
She pushed herself up, “I’m still going to miss the dance. That lab’s really training… but after that, I’ll come back. We’re going to leave earlier than we thought so we can get everything ready.” Venus walked toward the door and headed down to the kitchen. Within five minutes, she returned with his medicine, some water, and her own cup of cocoa.  
After he watched her drink it, and served his own medicine, he patted the bed much like he signaled Bandit as to where he should target to lay down.  
The girl shot him a look as if recognizing it but took the offered spot anyway.  
“I went with a teal dress shirt and a plaid tie with a black background, charcoal, white, and teal patterning. The corsage is going to be white roses and lavender—French lavender…”  
Smiling, the girl leaned back into his shoulder half-asleep as he continued on.  
-Dance To Die For JQ-  
The dinner table felt heavier as it was populated slowly. Hadji and Jessie had managed to get there first and second respectively, followed shortly by Race, and then the drag between Jonny, Venus, then several minutes longer Dr. Quest and Darren arrived, clearly hushing the continued conversation and pausing it as the meal started.  
Jonny let out a long yawn, his hand ghosted upward to cover his mouth, “’scuse me…” He apologized between another, shorter yawn. No one chastised the teen whom still had pillow lines imprinted on his cheek.  
Much the same layout as that morning with Dr. Quest at the head of the table, to his left sat Jonny, then Hadji, and Jessie, at the opposite end of the table, Race sat at the foot of the table, Venus next to him, and Darren next to her and Dr. Quest.  
Venus looked at the serving plates just grateful it was self-serve style, though she already suspected her plate would get hijacked by her dad similarly to the morning. In no great upset, he did load it up for her, but surprisingly he put less than she’d thought he’d slam her with.  
It was almost a reasonable portion—a wedge of meatloaf, which arguably smelled passable, green beans, a lemon wedge and butter, a dollop of mashed potatoes, and about the same sized portion of beet salad with feta. The milk was forgone for sparkling water.  
She licked her lips knowing the challenge would really be keeping it all down, not getting the volume in.  
Her eyes darted across the table, the others were all serving their own portions, with exception to Jonny who was having difficulty actually reaching for the serving dishes—he was directing his plate and portions as it passed by the dishes. He got a roll from somewhere and Venus felt gypped for not getting one of the hot rolls herself.  
Her eyes raked over the rations and found them to be between Race and Jessie.  
“Race, could you pass the rolls?” She said quietly.  
“Sure.” He looked at her, surprised by the request, but happy all the same.  
Venus took one and then passed the basket to her dad.  
“…If you think you can eat more of those, feel free to grab a couple, you usually act like a chipmunk for carbs.” Darren reminded her.  
“…If I did that, I definitely wouldn’t keep it all down.”  
“Okay, well, we can squirrel some away for later. You can bank extras.” He suggested, passing the basket down further.  
Feeling tired and hungry, Venus ate slowly in hopes that it would allow her body to compensate and actually take in the meal, it had worked at brunch.  
Jessie was the first to address the full table instead of just the small cloisters of in-groups. “…School starts back up tomorrow. Jonny, I’ll let you know what happens when I get back.”  
Jonny bowed his head, “…Just be careful, okay?”  
The redhead frowned, “…Sure, Jonny.”  
The teen loaded his fork with a piece of meatloaf and chewed the bite.  
“They’re planning to have a school assembly first thing, before classes start. They’re going to hand out new schedules, some of the rooms are going to change around.” She continued, she craned her neck to watch Jonny’s reaction. “…I heard they might actually close the wing for the rest of the year.”  
Jonny’s eyes bored down into his dinner plate, took another bite. “…God, I hope so. I don’t think I’d be able to focus there at all.”  
Taking a sip of her water, Jessie went for her green beans and some mashed potatoes.  
“…Jessie, can you tell me how it goes tomorrow, too?” Venus asked civilly, that earned her a whip-around look from the other girl.  
“Sure.” She floundered, neither regularly spoke even though she’d tried to engage a handful of times.  
“…Dad and I figured we’d head back tomorrow…” Venus added, she could see in her periphery Race giving her what she viewed as a dirty look, she assumed he thought she was just running away to not deal with things here.  
“We won’t be gone for too long, but we will miss the school dance.” Darren provided, “Benton and I were discussing it, and it makes sense for now that we look into renting a guest house or apartment in town, and get more used to being here.”  
Venus picked up the roll and chewed on it. Damn, she really did want to just shovel in five of these, but she knew that would end badly and then Race really would think she was bulimic or some similar ilk. Finishing the roll, savoring the way it near melted in her mouth, she moved onto the potatoes, eating the food by pile, not mixing the portions as she ate.  
“I’m going to take a few classes in your school, they can proctor my AP exams, including a few that aren’t really offered here, but I’ll still have to go to NY for a few of the labs and projects out that way.” She continued on softly.  
Jessie and Hadji exchanged a look, neither quite sure why she’d stopped the fake smiles, and more over how she looked sickly. Jessie didn’t think she’d been wearing that much make-up. She strongly considered the blond was eating some humble pie with her dinner but didn’t know who served it.  
Hitting the green beans, Venus ate one then stopped herself. “…Dad, I can’t eat these.”  
“That’s okay, just wait with us for a half hour and then you can bus your plates.”  
She nodded sleepily as she rested her hands on her lap under the table.  
“Sis, did you want more rolls?” Jonny asked suggestively. While she did give him a weak smile she shook her head to renege.  
“I guess it’ll just be you and me around tomorrow, Hadji, or are you helping dad in the lab?”  
“I will be assisting, but not all day. I will be able to keep you company. Was there anything you would like to do tomorrow?”  
The teen fidgeted “I was thinking of watching the rest of that first documentary, and knocking out some of that school work, but other than that, I’m open to suggestions… uh, Jessie, did you hear if Cherie is going back to school tomorrow?”  
Jessie shook her head, “No. Charlie is, but I’d heard she wasn’t due back for another week. She’ll be back before you though.”  
“…I’m sorry, can I be excused? I just feel really tired.” Jonny said after several moments, he felt the eyes on him, but he’d come to realize he was going to need to get used to that.  
“Of course, pardon us,” Benton said, dabbing his lips with the cloth napkin, he stood to wheel Jonny out of the room. “I’ll be back shortly.”  
Upstairs, in Jonny’s bedroom, Benton eased the teen back into the bed.  
“…What’s on your mind, son?”  
The teen reached his hand toward his dad, taking the cue, Benton held it.  
“…When we went into town, we got swarmed—I got swarmed… that’s going to happen a lot, isn’t it?” He asked thickly.  
Benton smiled gently, “Most probably.”  
He nodded, exhausted, “…and they’ll ask whatever questions they feel like, and feel like it’s my job to answer them, huh?”  
“That tends to be the pattern, yes.” Benton said in solace. “I would think school will be less like that, but there will be people who approach you because of this.”  
Jonny nodded, “…And if there’s people who’ll hero worship me for this garbage, there’s undoubtedly going to be people who vilify me for it, too…” He said with a stony logic. “…I don’t know how to deal with that, when someone’s going to tell me something I already feel—that I should’ve tried to get to Amy…”  
“Sport, I know that you feel guilty about that, but you know deep down that if you’d done that, many more people would have died, and you wouldn’t have saved her. You just have to remember that you’re feeling survivor’s guilt, and some people are just genuinely assholes.”  
The boy’s eyes bulged at the candid response, he looked at his dad.  
“And you’re alive, and I am so grateful for that. Anyone who critiques you on it are likely the same people that would’ve cowered if they found themselves in the same position as you were in.”  
“…Do you think Mr. Stevens is going to try to talk to me? I really don’t like that guy.”  
Benton let out a scoff, “I’m sorry to say, but your life is going to be complicated, probably for the rest of the school year at a minimum. Complicated isn’t all too bad, though. Cherie’s a lovely young lady, and I’m looking forward to getting a few pictures for the album.”  
Jonny closed his eyes, still clutching his dad’s hand. “...Just don’t go too overboard. We’re both pretty self-conscious right now.”  
“Photogs never seem to like being on the other end of the camera.” Benton lobbed a lop-sided smile, he brushed back Jonny’s bangs. “I’ll be by to check on you tonight with your medicine around 10, did you want to try to sleep until then, or is this a brief siesta?”  
The snores that answered him made him rake his eyes over the teen, he reached for the throw blanket and pulled it up over the boy.  
-Dance To Die For JQ-  
1200 EST January 16, Portland High School…  
Jonny blinked in surprise to see Cherie smiling at him at the steps to the school. He swallowed thickly, there was a larger entourage than he’d really expected and he wasn’t sure how to feel about it.  
Bobby, TK, Matt, Mrs. Hanes, that jerk Mr. Stevens, Dr. Von Liecht, and of course his family were there, as was the Principle and a custodian.  
He felt his chest constrict, Matt put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it hard.  
“It’s about damn time you’re getting back here; Bond Chicks need way more screen-time…” He leaned closer and gave his friend a fierce hug. He whispered between them both, “…It’s better in there, now. I promise.”  
“Is it…?” the lilt genuine, Jonny looked at the school ramp. He was barely going 10 hours a day upright, the idea that school was going to take up 7 of those hours was starting to become a very bleak reality.  
“When you’re ready, Jonny, we can walk you through the schedule changes.” His principal said in a kind voice. He couldn’t ever remember a time the principal’d used his nice voice on Jonny, maybe his dad once or twice, but never on him.  
Jonny nodded and rolled up the ramp on his own accord. At the doorway he paused, closing his eyes to let out an exhale and reached for the automatic door trigger. He rolled through while the doors slung open gradually.  
In the main lobby, it was no different than any other day, it looked like it always looked, but he knew better. He knew that on the opposite side of the school there was a shoot-out happening, right now—right now, Amy Lehrer was bleeding to death, kicking her shoes. Cherie wasn’t right outside, she was bleeding out on the floor next to a ladder with her mangled left leg still attached, and he was bleeding out propped against fire-doors to keep them shut. He really, really wished there wasn’t an audience for his pending panic attack.  
He swallowed thickly, there were two killers in here, right now. Armed to the teeth, and he was just going to wheel in and say hi.  
To the observant, Jonny’s whole upper body was shivering, to the non-observant, his hands were shaking enough to make a decent martini. He felt a hand land over one of his, his eyes shot up to lock onto Dr. Von Liecht’s, the man was in his mid-60s but looked even more ancient.  
He looked up and around the main atrium, it did look normal, he recognized that. He rolled toward the band wing where the theater was, it had a slight slope that curved toward the orchestral pit and emptied into classrooms for music lessons. It was the opposite side of the school from where everything had happened, and according to the principal would be where his 8th period AP art class would relocate to.  
He swallowed thickly, it didn’t make sense why they’d move it to there… well, unless it was because it was so far away from the courtyard? Or was it the ramp?  
They would hardly be able to move the chemistry lab like that. He grabbed his chest as he scouted the proposed classroom, he hated that he was accustomed to identifying the exits, especially in light of having needed to so recently, this room had two viable ones though… and the windows. One door dumped out to a side lot, undoubtedly so the piano could be wheeled in and out for performances or maintenance, the other was the doorway to the hallway he’d just come through, and that had two directions to get out of a building quickly—he looked over the crowded space and saw where he’d sit to have a vantage point of all three—the windows and two doors.  
His voice wasn’t cooperating enough for him to ask where they would keep the art supplies, but he definitely wondered.  
Dr. Von Liecht touched Jonny’s forearm again to check in with him.  
“…Wh…ere next?”  
Jonny looked at his schedule, they weren’t going from class to class, he knew that, they were moving him through the wings to chase out the bats. “Where’s chemistry being held?”  
“Jessie’s class is in the earth science lab.” Dr. Quest provided.  
“…They don’t have an elevator in that section.” He said darkly.  
Benton smiled wanly, “They don’t, unfortunately. But it’s not near where it happened.” His son scowled as if annoyed by that unnecessary reminder, as if he didn’t know exactly where all the rooms in this school were.  
They went to the second wing of the school that shot off from the atrium, this area had recently been cleaned up and emptied so that the classrooms could be reclaimed for the humanities, he found where his third period class would be- Mrs. Labinski’s AP English. He could see the make-shift ramp they’d slapped together over the two-step dip in the structure, half of it had a plywood ramp affixed and a handle.  
He rolled down the questionable structure and looked into the room, he didn’t like that, it felt claustrophobic, sure there was a second door to the outside, but it had stairs too. He didn’t see a ramp there, either. It didn’t help that the hallway seemed dark too.  
“Do you need a few moments, Jonny?” Dr. Von Liecht asked in his gentle, gravelly voice. The frantic nod gave him cause to signal Benton over.  
A large hand rested over Jonny’s shoulder in a private tone his father asked, “What is it?”  
“…There’s only one way out… and it’s not really a good out…” He whispered back in his own misery, he was sure his dad saw it too, but then again, it was also so dark.  
The hand left his shoulder to cup his face, his dad leaned toward him so they could lock eyes. “Son, in an emergency, you know you’d be able to make a run… you’re not trapped in here.”  
The teen nodded, “…but what if I’m being chased? Then there’d be a real handicap…”  
His dad let out a long breath, nothing to say to it. It was such an improbable situation, and yet, he’d have also said the same about a school shooting.  
“Can we get out of this hallway? I don’t want to be here right now.”  
“Okay.” He took the handles of the wheelchair and pushed Jonny back up the ramp, he noticed the lip it had, he could do one better, with that in mind he added the next few weekend projects to his own list.  
In the main stretch of hallway, Jonny saw the two lockers that were turned to shrines, his body went rigid as he was steered past Amy Lehrer and Peter Jackson’s adorned lockers. His hand shot to his mouth as his stomach tied itself into knots. He was quickly escorted to the elevator so they could go to his next set of classrooms.  
The teen panted inside the small elevator, he could take maybe five or six steps in an emergency, he could bank on that if there was a fire, but what about 20 or 30? He looked up and down the hallway as they came to his homeroom. He really didn’t think he could handle that many despite his dad’s assurances. He wheeled into his first period class, touched his desk as he looked out the window.  
He could make out the bus lane, and on the edge of the building where the others were outside waiting for him, at least his friends were. He didn’t see where Cherie was though, or Mr. Stevens and Mrs. Hanes for that matter. He also heard noises from inside the building and he really didn’t feel comfortable with that.  
The place was supposed to be empty, fuck, if it was haunted he didn’t know what he’d do. They exited his first period history classroom and headed to his Honors Math class, fourth period. Before they reached it though, he put his hand on the wheel to take control.  
“I want to check my locker.” The boy said firmly, wheeling down the hall in the opposite direction of where they’d traveled from, he scowled as he saw the small shrine around it, too. There were several cards and notes taped to decorate the outside saying ‘Get Well Soon’ and ‘Welcome Back’ and ‘Hometown Hero.’  
He didn’t really know why he’d gotten so visceral, but he ripped the signs off his locker, pulling it and the ribbons off the metal door and letting them fall to the ground until it looked just like all the others in the row. He let out a gasping pant for the exertion, he could feel his dad staring at the back of his neck—the principal’s look too. His hand reached for the lock and spun his combination—he’d set the combo himself, 14-18-double-spin-9, open. He’d set it to his age and birthday in reverse order. Inside, his locker had a handful of notes that had been slipped through the grates, several had hearts drawn on them.  
He glared at the mess, his brown suede bomber-jacket was right where he’d left it that December morning, he gripped it tightly and leaned his head into it. Shakily, he looked at the two shelves he’d put in, his notebooks were where he’d left them, but Jessie’d gotten his textbooks for him weeks ago. He looked at the photos he’d taped to his locker door, and the monthly calendar for December still up. He ripped off the page to reveal January’s, the date of the dance pre-circled with a friendly reminder to ‘Ask Her?’ for just under a week ago.  
He looked at the handful of notes that people had shoved into his locker grate. Some were cards, some were pictures, he smirked at the ‘DOUBLE O-BLOND’ and ‘BLOND BONDSHELL’ signs he knew his friends had thrown in there. As if regretting his earlier reaction, he reached for the papers, pocketing the ones he could bend for.  
“Let me, son.” Benton offered, scooping up the cards. He’d been silently watching the emotions play across the boy’s face and shoulders. Several of the notes had hearts on them, most in very different scripts, some were scented with perfumes.  
Jonny took up the one that smelled like Cherie’s perfume and looked at it, he didn’t know why Cherie would’ve slipped him a note, she and he had been exchanging phone-calls and emails. Jonny opened it casually to read the type-face, ‘See you soon!’  
His dad peered over his shoulder to read the note, the boy shoved it into his pocket. Benton hadn’t expected that kind of reaction, but he watched his son’s expression shift to a relaxed posture from the coiled tension. “…I probably should check what those say.” He said with a slight blush.  
Soon after, he closed up the locker and resealed the lock, his dad handed him the stack of notes and cards he’d picked up. In his math class, Jonny could see the rear of the school’s property, including a slice of woods.  
He gulped at the view, downstairs and off to the left was the courtyard. The cafeteria was closest to this side of the courtyard and school building, and he still hadn’t seen his AP Biology classroom or the cafeteria or gym… or where it had all happened.  
Rolling back, he left the room with a solid certainty that he had to confront it. He couldn’t put it off any more.  
“Dr. Von Liecht, I’m ready to go there.”  
He maneuvered himself back to the elevator, taking the car down to the first floor with the small group—his dad, his doctor, and his school’s principal. It was such an odd entourage.  
“There aren’t any classes in that area, and it has been cordoned off, as I explained in a letter sent home to all the parents, it will stay closed off for the rest of the school year, Jonny.” The principal explained, he pressed his walkie-talkie to inform the custodian to unlock the doorways leading in. “It’s being kept locked to keep people from sneaking in.”  
Jonny doubted that, he knew just how easy that would be to bypass, the interior windows to the courtyard didn’t have locks. All it would take would be one person willing to chance a run cattycorner to get in, but he wasn’t about to burst the principal’s bubble.  
“But I can see it, can’t I?”  
“Of course, you need to.” The principal answered reflexively, then shot his dad a look. The tension there told Jonny that he’d been on the receiving end of one of his dad’s lectures, he tried not to smile too hard at that. Remembering what he was about to willing walk into helped quash that smirk off his face.  
His hands steadied as he wheeled to the connecting hallway, on their way, they passed the classrooms where his biology class had been moved to, the cafeteria, the entryway for the gym and locker rooms, the nurse’s office, and the library. After a space of twenty yards, they came to the first set of locked doors.  
From what he’d heard, on the other side of this door, not too far away, there’d be a ladder, a banner, and where Cherie had been shot. He swallowed dryly and pushed his wheels forward.  
The custodian opened the door for him. His pupils blew out reflexively as his adrenaline shot up. His eyes scanned the hallway for the dangers as his body thrummed.  
It had been cleaned up, the posters for the dance were gone, there was no blood anywhere he could see, but he did see where cinderblocks had been chipped from bullets. He wheeled up to that spot and let his fingers trace over it, taking in the memory of the building and of what he’d been told of it. In breathy huffs, he pushed his chair back and kept moving down the hallway to chase the down the shooters who’d done this all.  
His chair skidded to a stop as he saw the vestibule where Peter had died. Firmly in his panic attack, he clutched his center, he was going to be sick, he knew that with certainty, but he had to keep it together, he had to see it, all of it and he wouldn’t, no, he couldn’t look away. His eyes darted the hallway he saw more pock marks, the tremor he’d somehow dispelled earlier was back with a vengeance as he reached where Amy had bled out, he doubled over. “Oh god…” Everything ached, his legs twitched in a violent spasm as he saw her making a snow-angel in her own blood as she twitched the last bit of life out of herself, and yet, there wasn’t a mark. Not a trace of her, or the bastard who’d shot her and him.  
He looked across the way to where the window had been blown out, it too was replaced. Even the dings in the cinderblocks had been repainted at a minimum. It smelled like fresh paint, not gun-powder, not blood, not the powdery discharge of an extinguisher… not at all like his last memory of it.  
“Jonny, sit back.” Dr. Von Liecht called to him, pushing him back into the wheelchair, “And take a deep breath.”  
His sore muscles in his core fought against the gentle but forceful shove, but was overcome by the persistence of the pressure. He shook in a gasp, rasping in a longer one. “H-h-h-h…” his throat squeezed out a breathy sound as he sucked in the air hungrily.  
“Let’s go through the fire doors, now, Jonny.”  
Benton bit into his bottom lip as he silently watched, Von Liecht keeping a physical buffer between he and his son. They’d discussed it, Jonny would push the trauma onto himself, and needed to bask in it as despicable as it was, and then he’d be able to know he’d truly faced that darkest abyss… and at that bottom, his father’s presence would be most critical, most powerful. So he’d bide his time.  
The teenager nodded his head, his whole body seemed to be bound taut, ready to shatter at the slightest of touch or provocation. His hand reached to the fire door, touching the other side of it, as if imagining the killer who’d been there, less than 2 inches from him all those days ago. He craned his neck to see where his would-be killer stood then back at the door where he’d stood, shot, he pressed the door open.  
The way his vitality deflated, the hallway well lit, the door repainted, the obvious pock-marks from the veered shots covered but not forgotten. He let his eyes drop to where he’d laid for half an hour simply bleeding, then looked back across the hallway at the handful dented and ruined lockers. His eyes rolled upward as he fainted forward.  
Von Liecht shoved him back into his chair, keeping him from spilling to the floor in his faint.  
“Jonny!” Benton was at the boy’s side, tapping his cheek to rouse him, after several minutes of this, it seemed to finally be working, his father pressing him further back into the chair as he watched his face.  
“…Uh… huh…? W…what? Where?”  
He looked around, well, he found the nurse’s office again. He felt the hand caressing his extended neck. “It’s okay, you are okay.” His dad reiterated. “But you saw it, no one was there, it was empty.”  
He blinked as if coming back to himself, his head hurt something awful, but his stomach didn’t, that was a positive. “…Y…yeah…” He said without strength to his voice, he still felt dizzy.  
“Did you need to see anything else today, or are you ready to go home?”  
“…There’re people here…” He asked, though he wasn’t sure if that was clear. “…Why are there people here?”  
The principal, who looked quite livid for having to deal with this excess crossed his arms, “Club activities. They’re decorating the gym for the school dance.”  
“…Oh… is that where Mr. Stevens and Mrs. Hanes are too?”  
“Yes, John.” The principal coughed then corrected himself, “Jonny.”  
He nodded tiredly, cast his eyes toward his dad conveying everything he needed to in the look.  
“Alright, it’s been more than an eventful day. Principal Raltz, thank you for letting us tour the school, Jonny will be back on Monday.”  
“We look forward to your return.” He said levelly.  
Outside, in the sunlight and fresh air, Dr. Von Liecht pulled a thermos from his car with still-warm chamomile tea and poured off a portion for the teen. “Here you are.”  
With a fleeting smile, Jonny took a sip of the liquid, appreciative for it. “Benton, please bring Jonny by my office Monday, after school.”  
“We’ll see you Monday afternoon.”  
-Dance To Die For JQ-  
With a groan, Jonny sat in the back of the land rover, Race locked eyes with him through the rearview mirror.  
“How was it?”  
“…My first day back? Bobby was right, that Honors English Mid-Term was literally just a bear.” He groaned again. “None of them even warned me how awful that was going to be.”  
Race shirked his eyebrows with a slight eye-roll, they probably hadn’t wanted to sweat him.  
“Did you hear about your other midterm results?”  
The teen shrank into his seat, melting into a pool of his own fatigue, Race wasn’t sure if that was just from being at his physical limit from being up and about all day or if it was because of something else.  
“…Yeah, those were fine, I’ll stay in dad’s good graces for the next quarter at least… well, except English, I’m not sure if I broke an A, A-minus, or if it dipped into a B-plus… she pulled some really weird reference material I don’t remember being assigned.” He let out another bellow, “And all day people kept coming up and trying to hug me and high five me… it was weird.”  
“Sounds like it, unfortunately, it’s not quite over yet. You still have your appointment with Von Liecht, besides all the spontaneous hugging… how was it?”  
“…Three separate packs of girls cornered me to ask me out, to prom, and for… other things which I respectfully declined, getting a wheelchair through a crowded hallway sucks and I was late for two classes, luckily no one was too mad about that. I tell you, though, I’m exhausted.”  
Race smiled fondly back to the boy, “Don’t forget to call your sister and tell her all about it either. Trust me, she’s one girl you don’t want to piss off.”  
“…Race, did Jessie say why she wanted to take the bus instead of ride back with us?” He asked sleepily, trying his best not to take a cat-nap. Really, that ’10 hour’ estimate was exaggerated. He really was looking forward to when he’d be able to get his energy back—and when he’d finally have the strength to just walk around. If he didn’t have to be up for so long, he thought he might even be able to walk around for a couple of minutes.  
“Probably because of your appointment afterwards, you look ready to fall asleep kiddo.”  
“Don’t I know it.” He muttered, “And because I have to take that stupid elevator I don’t get to run into Cherie in the hallway all day… at least she’s in my lunch period.”  
The white haired man smiled at that, “Oh the problems of youth.”  
The teen laughed, “Don’t go full old-fogey on me, Race…” He let his eyes make contact with Race’s through the mirror, “You know, I’m actually kinda glad she didn’t see that whole mess with those girls. I can’t help what they’re doing, but I’m not into it, and I’m sure it would’ve hurt her feelings. I really hope they just take a hint and don’t get mean about it.”  
“…Mean about it?” Race’s ear perked. He realized the boy was sitting on something. “Was someone mean about it to you today?”  
The teen broke eye contact and looked at the floorboard, “…Yeah, there’s always at least one, isn’t there?”  
That earned him a frown. “Who was it, and what did they say to you, kiddo? Do you want to talk about it?”  
He laughed, “No. But I’m going to have to. The jackass was threatening to send me on a ‘Side-Quest’ down the stairs.” He shook his head, annoyed. “I didn’t know the guy, but TK told me more about him, but he just sounds like a grade-A jerk.”  
“That kid threatened you? Tell me you got his name at least.”  
Jonny shrugged, “…I did… but I’m not afraid of him, he’s a coward, and if he tried something…”  
“Jonny, if he tries something you’re still not 100% and he could hurt you, what’s his name?”  
“Chris Bentley. He used to push around the guy I clobbered… apparently he’s jealous.” He rolled his eyes, “He’s some loser of a bully, but it doesn’t matter Race, the guys and I are always together.”  
Not that he’d tell the teen, but Race would have to ask Jessie about dirt on that Bentley kid.  
He parked on the street-side near Dr. Von Liecht’s office and powered up the hydraulic lift.  
Jonny unclipped himself from the back of the Land Rover and wheeled his way over to the curb.  
-Dance To Die For JQ-  
Sipping on more chamomile tea, Jonny sat in the soft couch, lounging back to rest after the session. They’d used a different technique today, and Jonny was still trying to wrap his mind around it.  
The session had gone for two intense hours, he felt like it was more of a police interview than a therapy session and he felt totally spent, not that he’d really banked any energy reserves after the long day, anyhow.  
“Would you like some more tea?”  
“No thanks, we probably should start heading back anyway…” Jonny reached his hand to his wheelchair. Dr. Von Liecht walked to it and clipped the wheel locks so the teen could get into it more easily, he offered him a hand that the teen refused. “I can get up, at least I should be able to…”  
With some effort, Jonny forced himself off of the couch and shuffled the few steps to the wheelchair before sitting back down. “…That’s better.” He forced a smile.  
“Jonny, when would you like to come back in again?” His psychiatrist asked him with a strong sense of urgency that Jonny just didn’t feel.  
“Would Wednesday work? I’d say Thursday except there’s a dance on Friday and I want to make sure I have enough time for everything I need to do…”  
“I can see you on Wednesday. I want you to do some homework for me, though.”  
“…And what’s that, doctor?” Jonny said tiredly, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to swing that.  
The doctor smiled at him, placed a hand on Jonny’s hair, “Meditate using the method I showed you earlier today except in a more relaxed setting. I want you to work on being able to reflect on where you actually are, you live in your head frequently, too frequently at times.”  
Jonny laughed, “Well, I am a Quest, Dr. Von Liecht.”  
The old man gave him a smile and patted his head again before removing his hand from him. “I’ll see you on Wednesday, and practice it.”  
“…Yes sir.”  
-Dance To Die For JQ-  
Friday, 22 January, 0600 EST…  
Jonny shuffled from his bed to his closet to pull out a t-shirt and sweater then headed to his wardrobe to pull a pair of jeans, socks, and boxers. His sneakers were at the foot of his bed, as he sat back into the bed he yawned tiredly, he looked at his suit bag he had hanging from the closet door, his polished chukkas were out of Bandit’s reach and near his matching black leather belt and watch-strap.  
With a longer yawn, he worked to pull his sleep-shirt from overhead, he looked at the five inches of scar tissue over his left quadrant. He let his fingers run across the scar, hating it and what it reminded him of every time he looked at it, felt it. He threw a towel over his shoulder and shuffled to the bathroom, with a polite tap on the door he confirmed it was empty as he entered and locked the door. He doffed his pajama bottoms and stepped into the shower.  
By 6:25, he was brushing his teeth while blow-drying his hair, a towel slung around his twiggy hips. By 6:30, he hobbled back to his room, done with the bathroom. He heard Jessie rush in behind him, but surprisingly didn’t hear her complain. Usually the two battled out first dibs on the shower, and he took a bit longer than usually since he blow-dried his hair.  
He made it to the bed, barely closing the door before his collapsed onto the frame. He grabbed his boxers and socks, bending over carefully, he pulled them on and then made a similar effort with his jeans. Maybe he had overdone it, he was pretty tired for the wear.  
Finished dressing, he collapsed into his wheelchair. He swayed the wheels back and forth in a practiced motion as he timed the movements to be a gentle glide.  
Heading back toward the stairs, the teen made his way to the breakfast table as Jessie made her way back to her room to get dressed, he terrycloth green towel flashing in the periphery as he hit the wheel locks in place on the chairlift.  
At the breakfast table, he assembled himself two breakfast sandwiches with eggs and bacon on a biscuit, and a large glass of orange juice to accompany an equally large glass of water.  
Hadji greeted his brother in a much earlier stage of waking up for the day, the older teen had been working late with their father in the lab on the latest project, he helped himself to a bowl of cereal and a cup of coffee as if to reinforce that he had had a long night.  
“Good morning, Hadj…”  
“Good morning, Jonny,” his brother replied, he sipped on the coffee and as it seemed to kick in, he looked at his brother, “I will stop at the florist today around 1, Jessie and I would like to leave here at 6 to pick up Cherie at 6:30. Will that be enough time for you?”  
The teen nodded, “Yeah, that’ll be plenty of time. Is dad driving, or is Race?”  
“…Much to Jessie’s pleasure, father will be driving.”  
Jonny laughed at that, “Oh, she didn’t want Race chaperoning? I wonder why.” He smiled toothily at his older brother who rolled his eyes at him.  
“I do not think she realizes the devil’s trade she made, father has already had me inspect your digital SLR and replace the batteries and SD card so that he will have ample opportunity to document both of our dates’ attire.”  
“…Oh god, we’re never going to get to the dance then. My backup SD card has 2 gigs of memory.” He paused to consider, “…Actually, if he switches it to video, that’d only eat thirty minutes.”  
“What are you two conspiring about so early in the morning?”  
Jonny turned in his chair to spot his dad and smiled, “Best way to get to the dance on time, morning dad.”  
“Good morning.” Benton poured himself a large cup of coffee before taking a sniff of the divine elixir.  
“…Looks like you both had a long night.” Jonny observed, “Anything exciting happen?”  
“Midnight oil always seems to burn the brightest, however, last night was primarily in the minutiae. Your sister called, that was eventful.”  
“…Really? She didn’t call me, what did she talk about?”  
He sipped on the coffee before his eyebrows shot up, “Her physics homework, more or less… she was also told me about the rental home they decided on.”  
“Really? They found one already? Where is it?”  
“Near Fort Allen Park, off of Vesper and Moody.”  
“How’d they find that?” Jonny asked, he took a bite of his sandwich.  
“They didn’t mention, it isn’t particularly convenient to here, but Venus assures me that was the selling point.”  
Jonny laughed, “Well, you know how she feels about tact.”  
“Abysmally?”  
“Yep, just about. When are they coming back then?” He yawned tiredly, “And did she sound better?”  
His dad smiled, “She did sound more like herself, as for a scheduled move in date, she didn’t seem to have it.”  
“Oh well, I’ll have to call her and ask about it tomorrow. What did her lab wind up being about?” Jonny stretched, looking at the time, he was going to have to head to school soon, “…Dad were you planning to drive us in today? Or is Race already with the car?”  
Hadji waved his hand, “I have been tasked with that, let me know when you are ready to leave.”  
“Oh really?” He smiled, “Sweet.”  
At school, the day had wicked by, the signs for the dance were everywhere, the dance committee had to stay afterschool to set up with mostly seniors, and a few juniors doing the bulk of the ‘heavy lifting’ to connect the sound system, put up the last of the decorations and tables. The drink stand went across the rear of the gymnasium, strobe-lights mimicking the whites and blues of snowfall.  
Jonny had managed to steal Cherie away for a few minutes from the club to remind her that he’d pick her up at 6:30 sharp. The girl had blushed excitedly at that which of course only made him blush more himself.  
He had leaned toward her and picked a piece of confetti from her hair as they spoke. The way she giggled nervously at that made him want, desperately, to bend a little deeper and kiss her, but thought that might be too forward.  
Instead, he licked the backs of his teeth and gave her a broad smile, “I’ll see you then. Bye Cherie.”  
“See you soon, Jonny.” She said back with a coy wave.  
As Jonny was making his way back from that stretch of corridor he saw Chris Bentley, he didn’t know why the older teen was still at the school. The buses had left more than half an hour ago.  
“Hey, Quest.”  
Jonny’s eyes narrowed, he wasn’t sure what Chris was up to, but he wasn’t really willing to find out, either. Unwilling to give the jerk ground, Jonny wheeled back toward the main hallway. He heard the heavy footfalls as Chris jogged to keep up, the teen grabbed the handle of Jonny’s wheelchair stopping him near the side steps.  
Pissed at himself, Jonny hit the wheel lock, he really, really did not want to get into a fist fight right now. “What do you want, Chris?”  
“Ah, don’t be like that! I just wanted to tell you I look forward to seeing you at the dance tonight.”  
“…Yeah? And why’s that?” He said cautiously.  
The toothy look he got in response made him flex subconsciously. “And ruin the surprise? No way.”  
“Then if that’s all, get your hands off.”  
“Don’t be like that, I’m just coming over to greet the local celebrity, the guy who couldn’t finish the job! The guy who saved mostly everyone…”  
Clenching his fists, Jonny willed himself to calm down, that’s exactly what this creep wanted—get him suspended right before the dance, no, he just had to keep calm.  
“But I know what you really are, you’re not a hero. You’re just some stuck-up asshole who got shot trying to run away. Coward…” He shoved Jonny’s back hard as he let go of the handle. He seemed disappointed that neither he nor the chair moved at all, let alone toward the stairs.  
Jonny unclicked the wheel lock and moved the chair before the asshole would think to go for another round. “Great talk, touch me again and you’ll figure out exactly how intimidated I am by you. Here’s a hint, I’m not.”  
Chris clenched his fist as Jonny put a few powerful rotations to the wheels; it gave him a good four feet of distance and growing.  
Back in the atrium, he spotted Jessie lounging into the rail waiting for him. “Finally, Jonny! What took you so long? Making out with your girlfriend?”  
He rolled his eyes, pissed, “Not now, I just want to go home…”  
She frowned, Jonny wasn’t usually so defensive when they joked like that, “Hey, what happened?”  
He shook his head, “Let’s talk about it in the car.” He clenched his fists, that chicken was really picking a fight on a kid in a wheelchair; that was a special level of low self-confidence that the creep had to bully someone actually disabled. In the Land Rover, he tried one of his calming techniques.  
“Jonny, what was that all about?” Jessie asked once she saw he finished up.  
“…That Chris asshole, he tried to tip my chair over the steps, like I’d be dumb enough not to lock the wheel after he’s threatened me with it.”  
“WHAT?!” She and Hadji exchanged gobstruck looks, “Oh my god, I’m going to kick his ass…”  
“Get in line.” Jonny snarked, “If he tries something, I’ll clean the floor with him, myself.”  
As if considering it, she tilted her head, “You probably could, but if he gets a lucky shot—” She clapped her hand over her mouth when Jonny gave her a panged look. “I mean, if he got a sucker punch in or something… but he’s not going to get that chance.”  
He glowered at his friend, “Yeah. Great. But now instead of getting to be excited about the dance, I’m going to have to tell your dad about that, and now he’ll probably tag along too. Because why not, it’s not like I can just go to school and have a normal day… I’m a Quest, we don’t do normal.”  
He leaned back to release a long exhale, he felt incredibly frustrated.  
“Jessie, please call Race so that we may update him.” Hadji said while glancing back toward his brother.  
She curled her lip, “Yeah, okay. I’m calling.” She dialed the cell-phone through the digital display on the dash.  
“Hey kids, what’s going on?”  
“Hey dad…” Jessie started, her tone already sending him alarm bells, she sounded bummed.  
“…Panchita, what’s wrong?”  
“Hey Race, actually, this one’s mine… you remember that guy I told you about?”  
He could practically hear the static of Race staring his general direction down. “That Bentley kid, what about him?”  
He blew out a sigh, “That’s the one. Well, he really did try to send me on a ‘side quest’ down some steps. He didn’t pull it off, but he threatened me too…” He said in such a drab, ho-hum voice that Race knew the kid was more bummed about adult interference than he was worried about the ramifications of if there really were a fight.  
“What did he threaten you with?”  
“…A surprise. But saying he tried to dump me down the steps, I’m guessing it’s a pretty lame one. It just happened a few minutes ago, no one was around, and for the record—I’m fine.”  
“Alright, thanks for keeping me in the loop. I’ll see you kids when you get home.”  
“Yes sir.” The boys said in unison.  
“Bye, dad.”  
-Dance To Die For JQ-  
At the entry to the compound, Race and Dr. Quest waited for the kids to pull in.  
Jonny put a hand over his forehead, the same exacerbated look his dad had on several of his own antics. “Seriously? We can’t even get inside before they start in?”  
Hadji gave his brother a passive shrug. “It is most concerning that he would threaten you so.”  
“I’m not scared of that guy! I’ve dealt with way worse.” He snipped, as if conceding the point, “It would probably suck to get into a fight in front of Cherie right now though.”  
“I believe there are many facets to why that would be bad, my friend.”  
“Oh come on, I know, I know my body’s limits. I’m still on pain killers, I get that he could do a number, if he could land the punch… which I’m not giving him that.” He sighed, “I should ask Darren what he’d do… no, I should ask what sis would do. She’s ruthless.”  
“I’ll hide the lollipops.” Jessie said to Hadji under her breath to his uncomfortable smile.  
Jonny pulled out his cellphone and called her, waiting before he exited the car. On the second ring his sister answered.  
“Hey Jonny! Sending me pictures already?”  
“…Not quite, I haven’t even gotten dressed yet. Sis, I have a question for you.”  
“Okay, go for it?” The girl said in a cheery voice, he wasn’t sure how genuine that voice was, she was usually happy to get a call from him, but then again she’d also been pushing herself to always be ‘happy’ of late.  
“There’s this guy picking a fight with me, from what I gather, he used to bully the kid who shot up the school, but now that he’s unavailable, he’s under the impression I owe him a punching bag. Only somewhat figuratively, there, he’s escalating it with threats of violence.”  
“Hum, what’s this guy’s name? Is it Chris something?”  
“…Yeah. How did you know?”  
“One of the cranks, is all.” He blinked at the phone, what did she know about the cranks who shoved those notes in his locker? He didn’t even tell his dad about it. “He was dumb enough to send a ‘get well’ card saying you didn’t finish the job, real winner in the game of life.”  
“Well, how would you deal with him? Would you just mop the floor with him after he swings first?”  
“With a torso wound? Hell no. Jonny, you’ve been shot. No.” She laughed, “But what I would do, since this guy’s such a malignant narcissist is give him the most crippling blow I could manage… you think he’s going after you at the dance?”  
“Yeah he said he’d be there, so you would hit him?” He asked again.  
“No. I wouldn’t, not in your condition. I’d make a scene and look like the nicest person in the world while rejecting him and publically humiliate the worm. In your case, I’d suggest you tell him you’re flattered he’d come out to you, but that you think he’s just confused about liking you since the shooting and all, that you’re not gay and are here with your date so thanks for the compliment, best of luck, but no you’re not interested. And then back off, because he’ll take a swing, probably.”  
Jonny laughed. “Oh I knew you’d be the one to ask, that’s too rich.”  
“Well, I’d hate to disappoint.” She said, the smirk sounding in her voice, “But if you want to go mean, I could ask De. Though, I don’t know how committed you are, and if there’s one thing to know about her, it’s that she commits.”  
“Sis, when are you coming back, anyway?”  
“…In February, I’m trying to get through as much of the stuff I have to do here.”  
“Okay, cool. I’ll call you tomorrow. Love ya.”  
“Love you too, be careful.” Both teens disconnected.  
Jonny rolled down the ramp, he locked eyes with Race and his dad, Race was crossing his arms.  
“There you are.”  
“Hey…” he waved, trying not to feel too annoyed. “Here I am.”  
“What happened?” Benton put his hand on Jonny’s left shoulder, the teen was surprised at how tender that felt as he winced.  
He pulled at his own collar to look at the offending shoulder and gave a glimpse of a red mark from where he’d been struck. His eyebrows shot up, it hadn’t felt like it would’ve bruised when it happened, but then, he supposed that was the case quite a lot with the pain meds.  
“He did that?” Benton said aghast.  
“…Yeah, he tried to push me and my ride off the short steps, but I had the wheel locked and kind have expected to be jolted. I didn’t think it would bruise though, I guess he hit me harder than I thought.”  
The adults exchanged looks between themselves.  
“I’m fine, really dad.”  
“We should ice it anyway, to be on the safe side.” His dad said in an authoritative command more than an ask, but Jonny knew better than to push him when he was fretting.  
“Okay, if I can do that for 15 minutes, but then I need to get ready for the dance, dad. Cherie’s expecting us at 6:30 on the dot.”  
His dad looked over him, he felt like his old man was about to launch into a lecture or go over-protective under his scrutiny, he was pleasantly surprised when he clapped his other shoulder and instead helped push his chair up the ramp and to the kitchen to get something to ice it with.  
In the informal space, Jonny pulled over his evening dose of pain medication; he’d been gradually cutting back, but today had really wanted to be able to be more mobile so he took the full dose instead of the halved dose. His dad put a bag of frozen peas over his shoulder beneath his t-shirt so it would stay put.  
“Wow, that’s cold…” Jonny muttered, he rolled his shoulder blade a few times to make sure it was still working the way it was supposed to and found the motions to be smooth.  
After 20 minutes, Jonny pulled off the bag of peas and tossed them back into the freezer before heading to the chair lift and his now slightly more hurried wardrobe change.  
The teen made fast work in the bathroom where he pulled off his shirt and styled his hair, brushed his teeth and snagged his cologne before he headed into his room to get dressed. He could see the handprint shaped welt in the mirror, or at least a portion of it. No wonder his dad and Race were pissed.  
Careful of his hair, he slipped on a v-neck cotton undershirt on and then pulled out his new teal dress shirt. Switching out his jeans for his dress slacks, he pulled up his socks then donned his chukkas, lacing them up snugly. He slipped on his belt and watch, buttoned his sleeves and dress collar and affixed the tie-guard and his tie in an van wijk knot, one of the fanciest in his reserve, but not as gaudy as the eldredge or trinity. Thinking about it, he doubted he ever told Hadji about those, it was actually kind of funny that Race was the one who showed him some of these, and not his dad who might actually have a reason to know about them for formal-wear reasons.  
He touched the tie feeling the extra ridges of fabric as he reminisced about Race showing him how to tie all sorts of knots so that he’d also know how to untie them, and Jonny had asked at the ripe old age of 7 what about neck ties… he’d seen his dad wear them on occasion, and he usually kept to a four-hand knot, himself, though Jonny didn’t know that by name at the time. Race pulled out an etiquette book from his dad’s study and showed him some, and then better still showed him how to tie them. He didn’t remember a time where he ever really did much with the more eccentric ones he’d learned just for the hell of it, but sometimes when he had to wear a tie, he’d switch up between a half-windsor and windsor to a four-hand like his dad’s or a kelvin and see if anyone noticed the difference.  
He figured Cherie might, what with her parents being into fashion, she’d probably been around some people who’d mess around with convention for the sport of it.  
With two spritzes of cologne so as not to overpower it, he pulled his peacoat on and sat back into the wheelchair. He looked at the mirror and appreciated the handiwork, he remembered to grab his tie bar and slipped it on then fastened shut his jacket and picked up the boutonniere and corsage from his desk.  
The visual inspection proved the florist really had seen what he meant, it looked even better than his sketch, he pinned the boutonniere to his double-breast fold of his peacoat and then put the box with the corsage on his lap and wheeled back to the chair lift. Spot-checking the time, it was 5:50, perfect, he was ahead of schedule.  
At the foot of the steps, he was greeted by the wrong end of his SLR digital camera with several shutter-snaps of varying exposure.  
“Oh come on dad, warn a guy!” He laughed, carefully, he rose from his seated position and took a few steps off to the side to show off his ensemble and let his dad take a few more pictures, jacket buttoned and unbuttoned then returned to his wheelchair to conserve energy.  
His dad showed his face after several more photos and gave him a smile, “You look very handsome son.”  
The teen smiled with a slight blush, “Thanks. Did Jess and Hadj make it downstairs yet?”  
Hadji stepped over from the living room as if in answer, he’d gone for a pullover and collared shirt so to avoid the tie-the-tie kerfuffle. His charcoal grey wool sweater was over a light silver dress shirt with French cuffs, and he did have on cufflinks, his grey tweed slacks, black patent-leather belt and longwing shoes completed the look with his turban pinned neatly.  
Jonny turned his neck to see Hadji look past him and spot Jessie coming down the stairs, she was wearing a princess-cut knee-length silver dress in charmeuse, her beaded bangles added a pop of color besides her barrel-curled, down hair, strappy three-inch silver heels put her almost to Hadji’s height, but Jonny wasn’t sure why she’d do that to herself at a dance. They looked incredibly uncomfortable.  
“You look nice, Jess.” He said with a wave.  
“Ah, yes, very beautiful.” Hadji added; he pulled out a box that held a corsage that had a magnetic back to pin to her dress without damaging it.  
She smiled at Hadji, her nose crinkling happily at the small detail, the reds and pinks of the roses fit perfectly with her outfit. “Oh, it’s stunning, Hadji, can you pin it?”  
“Certainly,” with nimble fingers he pinned it slightly left of her heart while watching her emerald green eyes.  
Jonny nudged his dad to get the camera from him and quickly snapped the candid shot before tossing his gear back to the man, the two laughing quietly between them at their own exchange. They both made the look of obviously averted eyes when Hadji and Jessie got back from whatever planet they’d just been visiting.  
“…So, not to rush or anything, but I’d like to see my date, too.” Jonny winked.  
Hadji cleared his throat, “Absolutely, shall we then?” He extended his crooked elbow to Jessie and extended his hand for his brother to lead the way while Jessie took hold of it.  
“Jonny, you clean up pretty good yourself.” Jessie called from behind him.  
“Oh do I? I never get to practice fancy-dress.” He joked back.  
-Dance To Die For JQ-  
At the Felds household, Charlie and Cherie practiced hands at endurance drills about their mother’s photog habits, patiently let her pull them ‘just so’ for the ‘best lighting’ as she burned through several rolls of film, most of her stricter and bizarre orders in French.  
Tying the corsage to her wrist, Jonny looked at Cherie, she looked beautiful in the teal taffeta the boat collar a crisp line in contrast to the asymmetric cut that curved just above her right knee, the design obscured her left stump completely. “You look wonderful, Cherie.” He smiled at her as the flash kept going off.  
As he tried to keep up, the hardest of the endurance drills were when both Cherie and he were requested to stand, “…You said you can, if it’s not too much, I’d just like one or two shots.” She had weaseled with a smile.  
Unable to refuse, which apparently had been the wrong response—he was posed with his jacket unbuttoned and then re-buttoned by the woman with practiced ease of knowing exactly what she wanted from her models, even when they did not.  
“Maman…” Cherie finally bit, in French she lectured, “We’re going to be late and too tired to dance.”  
She retorted, also in French, “Then my plan has worked. Be back by 10, mon cher.”  
Jonny smiled at the pair and said, “Oui m’dame, laisse-la moi.”  
Charlie shot his mom and Jonny a look before laughing at her surprised face. “Mom, Jonny is fluent in French, too.” He clapped Jonny’s shoulder which made the teen teeter before he caught his arm. “Oh! Sorry…!”  
The two boys laughed as Jonny tottered back toward his wheelchair. “It’s okay, c’mon, Jess and Hadji are probably ready to hit the road. Charlie, were you riding with us?”  
Cherie’s father helped her into her sweater before she sat back into her own wheelchair.  
“No, I’m picking up my date and I’ll meet you there.”  
Back at the Land Rover, Jonny extended his hand to Cherie to have her go up the ramp first, though the door and lift were already down. He joined her shortly after, his dad finished the crisscross of the clips to keep them secured.  
“Cherie, that’s a lovely color on you,” his dad offered politely.  
“Dad, the Felds request the mademoiselle is back by 10 PM.” Jonny smiled as he turned to look at Cherie. His dad put a gentle hand over his son’s right shoulder and patted it twice as he signaled his own understanding and headed to the driver’s seat.  
He was able to pull the Land Rover up toward to main entrance with relative ease as most kids were being dropped off by the gymnasium, the added space allowed for ease of the disembarkment before he pulled the Land Rover over to park.  
The look his youngest son gave him to be as low-key as possible just confirmed the growing realization that he really was onto the stage of raising teenagers.  
“…Are you going to be in the auditorium?” Jonny asked quietly so Cherie wouldn’t hear the exchange.  
“Oh, I’ll probably spend most of my evening speaking with Mr. Stevens, you know how much of a fan he is.”  
His son gave him a grateful look, his dad and Mr. Stevens were about as close as Jonny was to the guy, what with the debacle in November when he’d unceremoniously dropped out of the class after the man tried to finagle him into getting his dad to guest lecture—or ‘better’ yet, have him do it off his dad’s advanced research in a subject where his first exposure to chemistry was in the AP collegiate format, and they still hadn’t gotten to the basic version of the topic his dad’s research was an offshoot of. He’d gone so far as to lay hand on Jonny when the teen went to leave, and that was probably the only reason his dad had let him drop the class. Neither Quest was particularly fond of Mr. Stevens.  
“Well, we’d better head in, Cherie?” Jonny lined up his wheelchair to hers. Keeping pace together they headed to the gymnasium.  
Inside the filling room, blue and white strobe lights glistened over the room, hundreds of balloons and confetti littered the space, there were some standing tables at the periphery and a long buffet table with punchbowls, cups, and bottles of water set out. A DJ station and a stage was assembled, the microphone and spotlight raised 8 inches from the rest of the dance floor.  
Jessie and Hadji seemed content to distance themselves from Jonny and Cherie for a few minutes as they went to greet Jessie’s school friends.  
TK approached Jessie and Hadji, giving a wave toward Jonny but taking the cue from Jessie and Hadji in not approaching just yet. He carried over some punch and offered a cup to the others.  
“Wow, you’re here early. You really want to set that precedence with the teachers, TK?” Jessie teased.  
“Oh, you…” He waved his wrist at her, “I’m not early, I’m not supposed to be here.” He smiled mischievously.  
She rolled her eyes, “I don’t know how you guys get in so much trouble with the grades you get.”  
“Because all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.” He quoted shamelessly, “Besides, we’re friends with Jonny, I know you know how he gets when he’s too bored.”  
She and Hadji laughed at that.  
“He does make a valid point.” Hadji stated, an expert in his brother’s antics.  
“So are you here with someone or are you stag tonight TK?” Jessie asked.  
“Oh, neither of my dates are here yet.” He smiled toothily, “Matt and Bobby are running late.”  
“That isn’t surprising.” Jessie shrugged. “Well, I see Carrie, so I have to go say hi.”  
“Alright, later player!” TK saluted and dipped back into the crowd while Jessie and Hadji made their way through the sea of people.  
As the music transitioned from entry music to danceable, Jonny gestured his hand to Cherie.  
“…Would you like to dance?” The bashful smile he gave her was answered with a beaming one as the girl nodded. In their tucked-away position at the rear of the space it felt easy to stay obscure, the shadow distracting from the fact that they were both still far from recovered from the events in December.  
Jonny maneuvered his wheelchair to be facing Cherie’s but flush parallel. His long fingers wrapped around the double-thickness of the two wheels between them, his other hand on the opposite wheel, he made small back and forth swaying motions to mimic a dance, keeping his eyes on Cherie’s sharp, pale green eyes. Her alabaster skin had lost the earthen glow from summer, but the residual sun-freckles accented her arms and cheeks.  
He felt warm where her hand cupped his cheek, she in turn staring into his eyes, the rest of the room empty except for what filled their immediate vicinity. As the song Maps closed, Jonny slowed his ministrations and took hold of Cherie’s freehand.  
“…Cherie, would… would you be my girlfriend?”  
He was shocked by her lips on his as she leaned over her chair to connect.  
The blush that spread across his cheeks was only made bolder after their lips parted, “Is… that a yes?”  
She nodded, giggled breathily, “Yes, that’s a yes Jonny.” She leaned her forehead into his, her eyelashes tickling his cheek as they fluttered at him.  
He cupped his hand under her jaw and tilted it back up to land his own kiss, though chaste, the open mouthed kiss drew in her smells and tastes before he pulled back and noticed that there was in fact a room of people around him and her.  
“Uh… would you like some punch?” He asked goofily, the cat that got the canary, he thought he probably should cool his jets before any of his friends saw him and groused him too much. He figured Jessie’d think he was due some teasing, but then again he’d always been a pretty good wingman and let she and Hadji have their moments all the time, too.  
“Sure.” She smiled, she spun her wheels to sway her left and right, enjoying the way the taffeta felt as the cool, crisp fabric brushed her whole leg. She paused for a moment and shot a hand toward Jonny’s chest, it fished beneath his coat paneling and felt the Egyptian-cotton oxford fabric. His heat transferred to her fingertips as she dipped them lower, pausing at the bottom of his ribs, she felt his breath hitch as her hand lingered over his scar.  
He glanced away, dizzily. He reached his hand back over hers to retrieve it. “There’s also water.” He said subdued, avoiding eye contact.  
As if reading the moment, Hadji and TK approached Jonny and Cherie. “There you are; TK was looking for you.” Hadji said; the brothers exchanged a look, Hadji’s calm chocolate orbs trying to transfer some of the ease to his brother’s pained blue ones.  
“Hey TK, you remember Cherie?” He shot a warm smile, between the two, Cherie was blushing at her own overstep.  
“Yeah, I was in art with TK in Junior High.”  
“Mr. Monte, right? Advanced photography…” TK provided for Jonny’s sake.  
“Mhmm, maman made me use her old camera and he was so jealous of it…” She laughed, “Her old camera had a diffuser flash that was more suited for time-lapse nature photos.”  
“The Canon?” Jonny asked her, his own minor embarrassment forgotten as they spoke.  
“Yes, did she show you it?”  
He shook his head, “Charlie did, when your mom saw my SLR she started to pull her other accessories though.”  
Cherie laughed, “That’s just like her. Sometimes she picks up freelance jobs for her clients to find print ideas, and she’ll go on nature shoots, one of her favorites from that was a galaxy pattern and the alpine fir needle texture.  
“So that’s why she was fawning over my zoom lens…” Jonny laughed, “I showed her that high-powered view of the butterfly wings, she really liked that. I’ll have to show her some of the iridescent scale photos from other bugs and the reptile scale-patterns.” He offered absently, as they reached the line for the punch table, TK waved over Matt and Bobby.  
“Finally!” Matt and Bobby said in unison.  
“Hey guys.” Jonny waved.  
They waved back, Matt articulating a, “Yo.”  
“Cherie, are you taking good care of our Bond Chick? He has special handling requirements.” Bobby started.  
“Yes, he is absolutely not to be tumble-dried, nope, too much of that getting done.” Matt nodded.  
Jonny groaned at the joke, “Don’t remind me.”  
Cherie put her hand over Jonny’s right shoulder, casually showing off her corsage. “I will follow the tag indications dutifully.” She leaned over and kissed his ear. The suddenness of it made him turn beet red.  
“Up, color’s running, here, you have to use cold water.” TK said as he reached through the crowded table to hand him a chilled bottled water.  
Appreciatively, Jonny took off the cap and gulped it down. “Thanks. Think you can reach the punch too? Cherie wanted one…”  
“Yeah, I got you.” TK nodded, the almost scrawny teen threaded through a few people ahead of them who were mindlessly chatting before the bowl and scooped out some of the beverage and snagged a napkin before he slipped back through nearly unnoticed. In a comically over-exaggerated Sean O’Connery Bond voice he said, “Here you go, Cherie, courtesy of one Mr. Quest.”  
Cherie smiled at the antic and took a sip of the punch.  
As the music turned back from fast pop-music (Hit Me Baby One More Time and before that If You Wanna Be My Lover) and back to slower dances, she brushed her hand over Jonny’s. “Want to go another round?”  
“Uh, sure.” He smiled, listening to pick up which song was playing. Nirvana’s All Apologies started up as they moved back toward the dance floor, they started to sway, not really able to get back to their ‘private corner’ and catch the song.  
A majority of the dance floor was still in the divide of people too nervous to start and boys on one side, girls on the other, a few brave couples and stags refusing to not be swayed by the music.  
As the song culminated to its finish, Jonny noticed the lights dim more as another song began to transition on, You by Candlebox kept them on the floor, and while the song was of a faster tempo, it was still one he could sway to. His arms were getting a little tired trying to keep up with the swells of the music, but the proximity of Cherie kept him willing to put the effort in.  
The song closed, he undid his jacket and sipped more water.  
“Want to take a breather?” Cherie asked, handing him her napkin. He smiled and used it to dab.  
“Only if you want to, I can keep going.” He smiled, falling into those eyes.  
Cherie looked over her shoulder. When the song Da Dip came on they exchanged a look. “I think we can skip that one.”  
“Oh good, techno would probably be a bit above my level right now.” Impishly, Cherie stood from her seat and swiveled to fall into his lap. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders gently, her left leg coming to an end just where his thigh curved against the arm of his chair. Her right leg dangled off the side of the chair.  
When Waltz #2 by Elliot Smith came on, Cherie darted her hands to the wheels of Jonny’s wheelchair to lead the dance. Taking the hint, he wrapped his arms loosely around her, one on the thick of her upper arm, the other around her waist.  
He could hear a handful of gasps at the moves as she maneuvered them, far outclassing his sway side-by-side ones. He whispered a bashful, “I knew you’d dance me under the table…”  
“If that gets you under the table with me, it’s worth it.” She flirted, the sound of a throat clearing brought the two back to their sensed.  
“Special circumstances aside, there is a policy.” Came one of the chaperones, he pulled Cherie’s wheelchair closer so she could retake her seat. Sounding wolf-whistled made Jonny’s neck and ears turn crimson as he looked at Mr. Stevens and his dad on the periphery trying to not make direct eye contact with him for some decorum while Mr. Piersen laid down the law.  
“I’m going to go powder my nose.” Cherie said shamelessly, she waved coyly to Jonny and signaled back to their corner as to where she’d rendezvous with him.  
He swallowed back a lump and nodded sheepishly as his large grin re-plastered his face.  
Before he could make his way halfway through the dance floor and back to their spot, he felt the lights cut out completely. He froze momentarily at unease. A spotlight cut on, and in the traction-pull, eyes struggling to adjust to the brightness, he cupped his hand over his brows.  
“Everyone, we’d like to take a moment tonight to welcome back our hero of the hour, the one and only Jonny Quest!”  
There were several fits of applause, shouting calls, and whistles.  
“We are so glad you could make it here today, and this song is dedicated to you and all you did for our school and community, Jonny. Come on up, and enjoy the view!” The girl who had made the announcement signaled, Chris Bentley walked up to Jonny and pushed his wheelchair up to the stage and popped a wheelie to put him on the lip of it, the spotlight keeping Jonny pinned under the bright light and quartering his visibility.  
He hadn’t realized who had moved his chair until Chris leaned in and whispered, “Oh you’re really going to enjoy this, side-Quest.”  
He whipped his head around in time to see the girl signal the DJ. Bobby and Hadji were working their way up to the stage when the start of “I Will Survive” cut into “Let the Bodies Hit the Floor,” to gasped shocks on the dance floor.  
Still under the traction beam, Jonny felt the color drain from his face as the words of the song cut into him.  
“…Oh, this isn’t—we’re having technical difficulty—DJ, can you cut this off?” The girl floundered, Hadji reached for the switch to the spotlight and cut it off putting the room back to the dark and Jonny off display.  
Chris’s laugh hit Jonny’s ear as he shoved the wheelchair.  
Without the wheels locked, he actually succeeded in getting it to tip but didn’t succeed in keeping Jonny off-step, Jonny shoved off to stand up, letting the chair continue it’s descent without him as it clattered off the stage.  
“…Seriously?! Chris, at first I just thought you were an asshole that was misdirecting your own guilty conscience about a kid you bullied who snapped… but this? No, you’re just a sadist! You liked what he did… if gets you off.”  
Chris glared as Jonny’s words cut across the dance hall over stunned onlookers, the lights turning back up. The teen glared.  
“Watch your fucking mouth you—” he grabbed Jonny’s jacket lapel as he raised him two inches and cocked his fist.  
Shaking his head, Jonny snapped his left elbow into Chris’s nose quickly dropping the would-be tough guy to the knees. With an awkward catch of his own weight, Jonny shrugged out of the grasp on his jacket and then rolled himself back upright.  
“You’re pathetic. You had to pick on someone you thought you could take, and what—I’m in a wheelchair, so you think you that’s me? Chris, I’ve faced down terrorist organizations and death-robots. I’m not scared of you and I never will be, but way to spoil the night for our classmates. Everyone, can Chris get a round of applause for being a major jerk?”  
TK clapped loudly three times in a slow crescendo then stopped, “Nah… Guess he’s too much of a loser for it.”  
Several others started to laugh at the kid. Jonny curved his hand over his stomach, eying his ride but also not willing to really give up ground over the kid he’d just spilt to the ground before he could hit him.  
He saw how mangled his boutonniere was.  
A handful of teachers approached the stage, the lights dimming lower so to obscure some of the scene for all the bystanders. Jessie righted Jonny’s wheelchair and carted it back to the foot of the stage. “You might want to do that whole exit stage right thing, Jonny.”  
He looked at the stair, his brother seeming to get his reticence grabbed his forearm to help him keep stable as he made the hop down.  
Spoken in a much quieter voice, “Thanks Hadj… I better find Cherie.”  
“…Are you alright Jonny?” His brother asked in his own hushed tone. The smile his brother shot him to others would’ve conveyed the wrong meaning, but he knew the blond’s bravado intimately. “I will have father bring around the car.”  
“Jonny? What happened?” Cherie asked from the edge of the gym as his brother pushed him toward her and the exit.  
He frowned, “Someone watched the movie Carrie and got ideas.”  
Cherie put her hand over his boutonniere and adjusted it to straighten it. She looked over to spot Charlie who was walking over to them. “I saw that. I turned around when I heard Angela start up the song. But then it turned into that awful one…”  
He bowed his head, “…Sorry you had to hear it too.” He glanced over to see Charlie as he flanked them.  
“And here I thought the only appropriate way to ruin a school dance was to line-dance Cotton-Eyed Joe.” Charlie looked between Jonny and his sister. “…I guess a really bad ‘the worm’ dance can do it too.”  
That earned him an out-of-place laugh from Jonny, the teen curled his hand around his side. His sister had been right, damn that was too tender to do that even with all the pain meds.  
“Jonny!” The teen turned his neck to spot his dad, wondering just how much trouble he was about to get in. He really hoped there were enough mitigating factors that he wouldn’t be grounded for the rest of the school year, he finally had a girlfriend and it would be nice to be able to actually do stuff with her. The red-haired man put a hand on Jonny’s shoulder, Hadji stepped back to let their father take the helm.  
Jessie wrapped her arm around Hadji’s waist, he slung his across her shoulders, his fingers twined strands of her barrel curled hair.  
“Well Cherie, that’s the Quest Special.” Jessie said in a flat delivery, she smiled broadly, “Usually we get one or two go-arounds on some hoverboards before it hits the fan like that, though.”  
Cherie reached her hand for Jonny’s. “He was being considerate of my own timing. My pain medication is wearing off anyway, and I was going to have to ask to head home a little early anyway.”  
Jonny’s eyes shot toward hers.  
“…I didn’t realize I’d—”  
“I didn’t want you to realize I was getting tired, I’m having a lot of fun. But maybe tomorrow we can do something less strenuous?”  
His head swiveled back to his dad and then to Cherie, not sure he wasn’t about to be grounded until college.  
“Cherie, would Sunday be more agreeable?” His dad offered in a stoic, neutral tone.  
“…Oh, yeah, sure!” She smiled infectiously.  
The teen blew out a sigh, caught up in her beauty and charm, and the anxious tight-rope of wherever his dad was landing.  
“Well, then, Charlie are you planning to stay here longer?”  
The boy just a little older than Jonny was sandwiched between Jessie and Hadji in age, he smiled politely, “I was thinking of cutting out to an after party. If you don’t mind getting Cherie home, Jessie, Hadji—I can give you a ride back by 11 if you’re interested.”  
“…” Jessie and Hadji looked at each other then to Dr. Quest, “If you don’t mind, we’d love to take you up on that offer.”  
“Charlie, that after-party won’t have alcohol, will it?” Dr. Quest asked sternly.  
“No it won’t, it’s at the diner, a few of us were planning to grab a bite and wind down before heading back.”  
“Alright, do you both have your cell phones? Cash?”  
“I do, father.” Hadji said, “If we have a change of plans we will call and make arrangements.”  
He nodded. “Then have fun, Jonny, Cherie… if you’re ready, then?”  
Inside the Land Rover, Dr. Quest turned the radio on to put a buffer between he and the couple in the back, though his eyes did casually flit over them as he checked the rearview mirror on the drive back to the Felds household.  
Jonny took a hold of Cherie’s hand as she curled her arm around his back, head resting on his shoulder more than half asleep. That was a relief; she wasn’t lying about being tired.  
The Felds invited Dr. Quest and Jonny inside while Cherie sluggishly worked to bring herself in, Mr. Felds taking pity on his wiped-out daughter laughed as he opted to pick her up and carry her like when she was a young girl while Mrs. Felds collected the wheelchair.  
“I haven’t had to cart her upstairs from a night dancing since she was 10.” He laughed, “Did you two have fun?”  
“Yes sir.” Jonny said, keeping his eyes low.  
He attributed it to both of them being tired and smiled kindly, “Well, if you’re both this tired you must have had a full and fun night. Good night gentlemen, Benton, thank you for giving my daughter a ride.”  
“Any time,” he smiled back politely and bowed out with a wave.  
“If you’d like, I’ve developed the proofs from earlier, you should stop by this weekend and take a look.”  
“Let me check my schedule and call tomorrow about that.”  
“Wonderful.” Mrs. Felds paused, her hand went to Jonny’s lapel, with a tsk, she straightened it and the crushed flowers, she drew her long finger under Jonny’s chin and pushed his face upward to look at her. “I look forward to it, Jonny have a wonderful rest of your evening.”  
He smiled politely, “Merci, Madame. Good night.”  
“Au revoir,” She replied back with a dismissing wave.  
-Dance To Die For JQ-  
Back at the Quest Compound, Benton idled the Land Rover as he turned in the driver’s seat to look directly at his son.  
“Son?” Jonny’s wet blue eyes looked up to meet his dad’s. Benton blew out a sigh of frustration, he turned off the vehicle. “Did you hurt yourself?”  
His head dipped low, “…I might’ve,” his voice oozed discomfort, “Venus was right… I shouldn’t have taken a swing like that, my side feels tender now.”  
He caught the curl in his dad’s lip as his dad opened the door and dropped the hydraulic lift. “While you know I do not advocate for violence, I most certain advocate for self-defense. That was his come-uppance. I heard you ask Cherie out.”  
Jonny smiled at the thought, “…She said yes, so I guess that means I have a girlfriend now…”  
Benton patted his son’s arm in a clap, “That does appear to be the case.” He smiled back, “You should go upstairs and get cleaned up.”  
The teen nodded, “Yes sir.”  
“And son?” He waited for his son to lock eyes. “That was a solid hit.”  
The sound of laughing while the teen cupped his aching side reminded Benton of any number of times his son had come home covered in bumps, bruises, and a look of indomitable triumph. The look suited the young man.  
-Fin-


End file.
